


The Uneasy Dancers

by JungleKitty



Series: Kirk/Brandt Cycle [24]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Hallucinations, M/M, Mind Meld, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JungleKitty/pseuds/JungleKitty
Summary: Brandt and Spock go on a mission, and this time she's the one who needs rescuing. Then it gets really interesting.
Relationships: Kirk/Brandt, Spock/Brandt
Series: Kirk/Brandt Cycle [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524224
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (c) 1998 Jungle Kitty. Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.
> 
> This story is one in a series about the relationship between James Kirk and Suzanne Brandt. It is #24 in the entire series, and part of the Stories of the First Five-Year Mission (2264-2269).
> 
> This story follows up on certain issues that were raised in Blood Claim and it also helps if you've read The 1000th Woman.
> 
> The lullaby is "I'll Take You Dreaming," by Sylvia Fine and Jules Styne, and again, no copyright infringement is intended.

* Captain's Log, Stardate 5986.7 *

The Enterprise is en route to the Beta Choreatricis system, located along the furthest arm of the galaxy. Beta Chorea 3 houses an unmanned computer system that has been transmitting inconsistent information for several weeks. Starfleet Central Systems has been unable to access the computer remotely.

Captain Suzanne Brandt, one of Starfleet's most capable computer security specialists--in other words, a hacker--has been assigned to override the security protocols and upload the data to the Enterprise, where its initial analysis will be completed by the Computer Science Department under the supervision of Mr. Spock.

* End Captain's Log *

* * *

Gasping and spent, Jim and Suzanne slid to the floor where they lay for several minutes, wallowing in happy depletion.

Finding her voice at last, Suzanne said, "Well, it's official. We've now done it up against every wall in this cabin."

"I didn't know you were keeping track. Sounds more like something Spock would do." Jim sat up and rubbed his still trembling legs. "What's next?"

"Peel me off the floor, and let's get dinner."

"Actually, I think a shower would be in order."

"Will you wash my hair for me?"

"'Wash my hair, rub my feet.' My god, you're demanding." He smiled affectionately.

"Well, at least my requests can be made in public."

* * *

As Jim's fingers worked vigorously against Suzanne's scalp, he noted with satisfaction how she rolled her head under the massage.

"...oh, yes..." she murmured.

He had always enjoyed pleasing women, but pleasing this one was somehow more rewarding. Strange to think that, after all his travels and lovers, he had found happiness with a woman whom he had dismissed as a certain failure when they first met at the Academy. Of course, her opinion of him hadn't been much better.

He turned her under the spray and rinsed the creamy lather from her head. Watching the suds slither down her curves, he tried once again to reconcile this pleasure-seeking sensualist with the iron-willed commander of Special Ops' top unit.

How could one woman be so many things? And how could she fill so many places in his heart?

They stepped out of the shower and began drying each other. As he rubbed her head with a towel, he found himself remembering the last time she'd been on the Enterprise and the troubled uncertainty he'd felt when they said good-bye. Coming so soon after his captivity on Nevaris and the revelations that had followed his liberation, the parting demanded by their careers had seemed unspeakably cruel...

He had accompanied her to the transporter room, his reluctance to see her go increasing with every step. They had already said good-bye in the privacy of his quarters, and there were no words left to be spoken, but, glancing at her carefully controlled expression, he had seen the reflection of his own unease.

As they stood in front of the transporter platform, mere inches separated them, inches that would soon be light-years. He wanted to say, "Take care." He was afraid he'd say, "Don't go." So he said nothing.

Finally, she offered her hand in farewell. As he closed his own around it, he felt a deep resentment of the simple handshake that was all they had ever allowed themselves in this situation. Acting swiftly and decisively, he pulled her to his chest and closed his arms around her, savoring the explosive rush of air that was forced from her lungs. As her arms crept up his back and squeezed hard, he closed his eyes, remembering a similar embrace on Nevaris. But that had been an almost unbearably joyful reunion, and this was another heart-breaking farewell.

They held each other for far too long, embarrassing both themselves and Mr. Kyle, who finally ran out of processes on which to run diagnostics.

In the end, Kirk had dismissed the red-faced technician and sent her off himself...

"Jim, enough!" she interrupted his reverie. "If you keep rubbing my head like that, my hair will fall out."

He dropped the towel to her shoulders, and she gave a crooked smile that jabbed at his heart. He put his hand under her chin and, as she closed her eyes expectantly, he kissed her very tenderly, savoring the taste and texture of her mouth.

As his lips left hers, she opened her eyes and whispered, "Dinner?"

"Not yet."

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the sleeping alcove, where he set her on the bed and lay down beside her. He didn't care that it was too soon to start another round of lovemaking. He wanted to be near her, to feel her next to him, soft and snug. He wanted to kiss, and touch, and hold, and know that there was time for such simple intimacies.

"Suzanne," he said as he pushed her damp curls back from her face, "the Enterprise's five-year mission will be completed in two months, and I intend to take a very long leave. Will you join me?"

"For as much of it as I can. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, for starters, a trip to Iowa."

"Um..." she said uncertainly.

"I believe Sheriff Jensen has retired." His eyes danced with mischief. "And this time will be different. I promise."

"How?" she challenged him.

"For one thing, you and I are finally going to spend enough time together that we might become capable of acting like rational adults, instead of sex-crazed teenagers."

"Then I'm out of here."

She pushed his arms away and sat up, but he quickly pulled her back down.

"I'll tell you when you can leave," he said.

"And when is that?"

"Never."

Then, laughing softly, they kissed and touched and held each other with a reassuring lack of urgency.

* * *

The next day found Captain Brandt in the ship's library, devoting the last three hours before beamdown to a final review of the career of Dr. Gwendolyn Ludovic, chief designer of the Beta Choreatricis computer system. It had been built with the sole purpose of receiving, analyzing, and transmitting data from long-range probes outside of Federation space. It had worked flawlessly until a few weeks ago, when Starfleet Central Systems had begun receiving gibberish.

Dr. Ludovic had headed the Computer Science department during Brandt's years as a cadet at Starfleet Academy. The two women had enjoyed a comfortable relationship as mentor and protege, which was why Brandt was so puzzled by the doctor's refusal to assist in solving the puzzle of the Beta Chorea computer system.

She remembered visiting Dr. Ludovic at her laboratory shortly after the mission briefing. The meeting had begun with the usual teasing about Brandt wasting her talents "hot-dogging around the galaxy."

"But, you see, Dr. Ludovic," Brandt said lightly, "I'm finally going to fulfill my life-long ambition."

"Which is?" the doctor prompted as she poured out two cups of tea.

"To visit the Beta Choreatricis system."

"What!--Oh, damn!" Dr. Ludovic blurted as the steaming liquid overflowed Brandt's cup. "Why would you want to go there?" she asked as she wadded up a napkin and began mopping up the spilt tea.

"Beta Choreatricis is one of the stars that make up the Uneasy Dancers," Brandt explained as she joined Dr. Ludovic in cleaning up the mess. "That's the brightest constellation in the sky over Kyros, my home planet. My brother and I used to argue about what made them uneasy. I told him that someday I would go there and find out."

"But surely you understand the scientific principles..."

"Oh, of course I do. *Now.* But I think it's time I paid my respects to the stars that made me want to join Starfleet, don't you?"

Dr. Ludovic stood and paced the tiny office.

"Doctor? What is it?"

Brandt approached the agitated woman, who quickly moved away, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Doctor?"

Ludovic turned and hesitated before speaking.

"Suzanne, don't go there. There's nothing you can do."

"Why? Dr. Ludovic, what can you tell me about the Beta Chorea computers?"

The doctor shook her head.

"There's nothing I can tell you. I've fulfilled my contract with Starfleet. They chose to handle maintenance and support internally. If it's too much for them, that's not my problem. I told them that I'll look into it, and I will. But right now, I have other obligations." With sudden urgency, she added, "Tell them to wait for me, Suzanne."

"It can't wait, Doctor. The information that computer is gathering is absolutely essential. The Federation has plans for colonization far beyond its current boundaries. But to do so, they have to know what's out there."

An ominous silence filled the air.

"Doctor? If there's anything--"

"Will you excuse me, Suzanne? I just remembered something--someone I have to call." She moved to the doorway, pausing at the last moment to smile reassuringly at her visitor. "Please make yourself comfortable."

She hurried into the next room, leaving Brandt frowning in puzzlement. After a few moments of internal debate and hating what she was about to do, Brandt went to the doorway and strained to hear the doctor's voice.

"Are you sure? ... Yes, I know what we agreed, but I didn't realize ... But this changes everything!"

There was a long pause, and then she heard Dr. Ludovic say, "You're right. We owe it to him ... Yes, I understand."

Brandt scrambled back to her chair and was sipping her tea when Dr. Ludovic returned and said, "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can tell you."

"But, Dr. Ludovic--"

"I'm very busy, Captain Brandt. You can see yourself out, can't you?"

* * *

"Captain Brandt, report to the bridge."

Putting aside her worries about Dr. Ludovic's odd behavior, Brandt activated the desktop comm unit.

"Brandt here. I'm on my way."

* * *

Hearing the doors open behind him, Kirk swiveled in the command seat.

"Captain Brandt. Starfleet Command is about to issue new orders."

"Oh, really," she said evenly as she stepped down to the main level and stood beside him.

Kirk's eyes crinkled with amusement as an unspoken "Now, now" hung in the air between them. He knew that Command's interference in Special Ops' activities was a sore point with her, as it usually resulted in delays due to "re-evaluation of mission goals."

Refusing to acknowledge the good-natured teasing in his eyes, she turned to the screen with an air of imperturbability.

Kirk nodded to Uhura. "Lieutenant."

"Enterprise here. Go ahead, Starfleet."

When Admiral Komack appeared on the viewer, Kirk rose respectfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brandt tense, almost as if waiting for a blow.

"Admiral Komack," he said, focusing his attention on the main viewer.

"Captain Kirk. Captain Brandt. Is Commander Spock there as well?"

"I am, sir."

Spock took his place at Kirk's right.

"Very good," the admiral said. "Now as I understand the situation, it may take several days to unlock the Beta Chorea computer system. It may even prove impossible. Is that true, Captain Brandt?"

"Sir," she replied, "there's no way of accurately predicting--"

"I appreciate your reluctance to commit to a deadline at this time, Captain, but, as the former commander of a space vessel, you should appreciate my reluctance to let a starship sit idle, waiting for something that may not happen for some time, if ever. No offense, Captain." His smile was brief and insincere.

"None taken, sir."

Kirk hoped that the subharmonics of her reply would be flattened in transmission.

"But if I may, Admiral," Brandt continued, "I'd like to point out that once I unlock the system, it's imperative to determine the validity of the data without delay. And for that, we need the expertise available on the Enterprise."

"Thank you, Captain, I'm well aware of that. That's why Commander Spock will transport down to the planet's surface with you, and the Enterprise will begin its next assignment."

"Sir, even Commander Spock--"

"That's enough, Captain," Komack cut her off sharply. "The Enterprise will remain in orbit just long enough for you and Mr. Spock to beam down. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The bridge crew fidgeted uncomfortably, and Kirk wished he'd had the foresight to have the admiral piped through to the briefing room.

"Captain Kirk." Komack's voice warmed as he addressed one of his own. "After transporting Captain Brandt and Commander Spock to the planet's surface, the Enterprise will proceed to Verity 7 to pick up scientific equipment, which you will then deliver to the Quelis colony. During the seven days we estimate for the Enterprise to complete this assignment and return to Beta Chorea, it is our hope that Captain Brandt will successfully unlock the data so that Mr. Spock can begin analysis. And should that task prove to be more challenging than anticipated, at least the Enterprise's time will have been spent productively. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"Captain Brandt?"

"No questions, sir."

"Very good. Proceed as ordered. Komack out."

The screen rippled, and the stars once again floated by. Brandt slowly exhaled and said, "Captain Kirk, with your permission, I'll speak to your quartermaster about requisitioning the appropriate supplies."

She turned toward for the turbolift.

"Just a moment, Captain," Kirk said. "Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

He joined Brandt on the upper level, and they entered the turbolift together.

"Deck six," Kirk said. As the lift began moving, he counted silently to three and then said, "Halt turbolift."

She gave him a quizzical look. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall.

"Go ahead," he said.

She paused for only a second, then closed her fists, inhaled deeply, and roared, "DAMN!"

After a sharp huff of air that released the last bit of remaining fury, she recomposed herself.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her. "Now do you mind telling me why Admiral Komack has it in for you?"

She gestured non-committally.

"He's not a fan of Special Ops. He thinks we're a bunch of loose cannons who take up too much of the budget."

"Well, aren't you?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Very funny."

"Don't let him get to you, Brandt." He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. "My crew has too much respect for you to take his insults seriously. And you shouldn't, either."

She nodded, and he grasped the turbolift control. "Deck six."

The lift started moving again.

"Kirk?"

"Yes?"

"You're pretty good at this stuff."

"Why, thank you, Captain Brandt."

They smiled warmly at each other, and, for a moment, the only sound was the hum of the turbolift. Then Brandt's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Halt turbolift," she ordered.

"What are you doing?"

With a decidedly sexy swagger to her walk, she approached him and said in a low voice, "I don't think we're going to have another chance to say a *real* good-bye."

She put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a deep, deliberate kiss that said much more than "good-bye."

* * *

McCoy entered the bridge with a satisfied smile.

"Report, Doctor?" Kirk said.

"I've just vaccinated the last of the crew against Teslaran flu."

"And you felt that momentous news had to be delivered personally?"

"No, I was hoping to find Scotty up here. I think there's something wrong with the main turbolift. This morning, I had to wait five minutes before it arrived."

Kirk managed to look puzzled, but before he could respond, Mr. Sulu reported that they were approaching Beta Chorea 3.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu. Standard orbit."

"Standard orbit, sir."

"Mr. Spock?" Kirk turned toward the science officer.

Spock raised his head from his viewer and reported, "The planet has an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, with a high concentration of acaritones in a volatile state."

"Acaritones?" Dr. McCoy frowned. "I saw a case of acaritone poisoning once. Not very pretty--"

"The presence of acaritones is the reason the scientific outpost is in a sealed environment, Doctor," Spock explained.

"And it is also the reason that you and Captain Brandt will beam down in enviro-suits," Kirk said. "She's already requisitioned them. They should be in the transporter room by now."

* * *

Standing on the transporter platform, Spock studied the two captains, aware that humans set great store in gestures of parting.

*A handshake. Fascinating.*

At the console, Mr. Scott carefully brushed a non-existent dust particle from the controls, wondering why the man didn't just kiss her. After all, she hadn't closed her face mask yet--Ah! Too late.

Captain Brandt ascended the steps, turned, and raised her hand, displaying the solid green on her wrist indicator. Spock did the same, and Kirk nodded, satisfied that their enviro-suits were properly sealed.

"Energize."

After watching Brandt and Spock dematerialize, Kirk waited at the transporter console until she checked in.

"Nothing unusual to report, Captain Kirk. The tricorder and e-suits indicate an earth-normal atmosphere in the station."

"Very good, Captain Brandt. We'll be back in seven days. Good luck."

"Luck? Kirk, if I don't have your first officer analyzing data within eight hours, I'll eat my stripes. Brandt out."

Kirk headed to the doorway, chuckling.

*And she thinks *I'm* arrogant.*

Entering the turbolift, he gave the voice command to return to the bridge. As the compartment began moving, he recalled the impassioned kiss in that very location. Bones was lucky he'd only had to wait five minutes for the lift. Briefly indulging in a favorite fantasy, Kirk wished he had taken her then and there, and to hell with propriety. A genuine knee-trembler, fast and furious, with Suzanne up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips. *And* in a dangerously public place, given the number of officers empowered to execute an override command. Now that would be--

The doors whooshed open and, not for the first time, Kirk wished that his trousers were a little looser and his tunic quite a bit longer.

Assuring himself that the proper air of authority could cover anything, he gave the orders to leave orbit and settled into the command chair. He looked around and was briefly taken aback at the sight of Chekov occupying the science station. Reminding himself that it was important for junior officers to develop the skills necessary to become senior officers, he turned back to the main viewer.

As the planet retreated into a small dot on the screen, he found himself seeking another officer, one he shouldn't have been missing, not here. In her many passages aboard the Enterprise, Brandt's appearances on the bridge had been few and far between. He'd never thought about it before, but now he realized she had intentionally stayed out of his territory, holding herself to a much stricter standard of professional courtesy than a visiting officer normally would. Of course, if he mentioned it, she'd probably tease him by saying, 'I stay off your bridge, JT, because the urge to run it *properly* would be overwhelming.'

A satisfied smile crept across his face, as he imagined the rest of such a conversation.

'Nice try, Brat, but that dog won't hunt. You stay off my bridge out of respect for my command.'

For all the competitiveness between them, both playful and serious, they had learned not to challenge each other in certain areas. Oh, one would occasionally try to take the other down a peg, but under it all, there was a quiet pride in each other's abilities and accomplishments. And they knew where the boundaries were. Even during the journey to Nevaris, she hadn't taken command of the Enterprise, leaving Spock in charge while she stayed in the background as much as possible.

Nevaris... The smile left his face as he thought of what Brandt had endured there. He still remembered his shock when she'd knelt to submit to the flogging that was the cost of his freedom. A helpless witness to her determined courage, he had been badly shaken, and, for the first time, he had seriously questioned the price of command. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering how many of her assignments required such reckless heroism.

But at least the Beta Chorea mission sounded reassuringly free of danger.

"It's the closest I'll ever get to a safe assignment," she'd said breezily.

So why was a restless suspicion nibbling at Kirk's peace of mind?

He had certainly welcomed Brandt's extended stay aboard the Enterprise. But experience had taught him that something that appeared too good to be true usually was. And now that she was gone, he couldn't help wondering why she'd been given the assignment in the first place. Although highly skilled, she wasn't the only hacker in Starfleet. And given the mutual distrust between Command and Special Ops, he would have expected Admiral Komack to refuse assistance from that quarter. And why...

Listening to the escalating hum of the warp engines, he felt a growing disquiet.

Why had Admiral Komack's hostility been directed not at Special Ops, but at Captain Brandt personally?


	2. Chapter 2

Once free of the cumbersome enviro-suit, Captain Brandt was as good as her word. Within five hours, she had disabled the primary security barriers, and Spock sat down at a console on the opposite side of the main records housing and began viewing the lowest level files.

Two hours later, she rose and walked around the equipment, stretching her arms and rolling her head.

"Anything to report, Mr. Spock?" she asked.

"I find myself somewhat puzzled, Captain. This data in no way corresponds to what was received by Starfleet Central Systems. It is completely valid, and even...uninteresting. It would appear that the computer was recording properly, but modifying what it transmitted."

"What would be the reason for that?"

"Unknown, Captain. I have been unable to access the program that controls the transmissions."

"Try it again. I just cracked another sub-level on the gamma sector."

Spock turned to his monitor and quickly scanned the newly available files.

"This appears to be a repository of the computer's automatic maintenance logs."

"Self-check records? Well, there might be something there that explains why it missed the simple fact that it wasn't working properly." Realizing that her sarcasm was probably lost on her companion, she switched to a more professional tone. "Keep working at it, Mr. Spock, and transmit the data you've analyzed, so that CenSys will have something valid to work with."

She headed back to the security console on the other side of the main system.

"Captain, shall I also send a report to Admiral Komack?"

It took her a moment to realize that she had just received the Vulcan equivalent of a poke in the ribs. She stuck her head around the corner and peered at him curiously. For a Vulcan science officer, he was surprisingly astute about human interactions.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Spock. He'll get the message."

Smiling to herself, she returned to her work.

* * *

"Jim?" Dr. McCoy waved his hand in front of Kirk's face. "Jim, are you listening to me?"

"What? Sorry, Bones. What were you saying?" Kirk tried to look interested as he pushed the food around on his plate.

"It wasn't important. But it's not like you to tune out like that. Why don't you tell old Doc McCoy what's on your mind?"

Kirk looked around and saw that the officers' mess was almost deserted.

"Bones, does anything about this trip to Quelis strike you as odd?"

"No, I can't say that it does. What are you thinking?"

"What Spock and Suzanne are doing on Beta Chorea is important, and they could certainly use the facilities and expertise onboard the Enterprise. The equipment we're delivering isn't vital, and there's a weekly transport between Verity and Quelis. The last-minute change of orders and the way Komack spoke to Suzanne... I can't help feeling like we're being gotten out of the way. And I don't like it."

"Well, I've never met anyone whose gut instinct I'd trust more than yours, so what are you going to do about it? Turn back?"

"No, I can't disobey orders."

McCoy raised a quizzical eyebrow. Kirk shrugged, smiling.

"Not without something more than a vague suspicion, anyway." His smile faded. "But..." He pushed away his plate and crossed to the comm link. "Bridge. Communications."

"Uhura here."

"Lieutenant, get me Commander Victor Petrocelli on Starbase 8. I'll take it in my quarters."

Five minutes later, he was listening to his former classmate describe his oldest boy's school achievements.

"...so I think his place at the Academy is assured."

"That's wonderful, Vic."

"But you didn't call to hear all this. What's up, Jim?"

"Vic, you were on Admiral Komack's staff for a few years, weren't you?"

"Yes, until this spot came up."

"Do you know of any reason for animosity between the admiral and Captain Brandt?"

Petrocelli paused uncomfortably. "Jim, Fleet gossip has it that you and Brandt are on *very* good terms, so I can't help wondering why you don't just ask her."

"Think back, Vic. Did you ever get a satisfactory answer out of her if she didn't want to give one?"

Petrocelli chuckled. "All right. There isn't much to tell anyway. At one point, the admiral offered her a position on his staff that included a promotion to commodore. When she turned it down, he was furious."

"When was this?"

"Three years ago. Around Valentine's Day. I was ordering flowers for my wife when the admiral grabbed the transfer authorization off my desk and threw it into the recycler."

"Do you know why he offered it to her? Or why she turned it down?"

"No, but it was all very sudden. Lots of subspace communication between them for about a day, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun."

"Where was she when all this subspace communication was going on?"

"Sorry, I don't remember."

"All right. Thanks, Vic."

"Hold on, Jim. You don't get off that easily. What's going on?"

"I don't know. But I intend to find out."

He ended the communication and rubbed his chin anxiously. He could understand Brandt refusing a promotion that would have required her to leave Special Ops. But why had Komack offered it to her? And why had he been so furious when she turned it down?

Kirk slapped the comm button.

"Kirk to bridge. Communications."

"Uhura here, sir."

"Lieutenant, get me Commander Jack Wallis, Special Ops."

* * *

That night, Brandt tossed restlessly in her sleeping compartment, the codes and commands still marching resolutely through her mind.

Alpha to level ten, branch eight, code 4916.9...

How could Dr. Ludovic have used something so obvious? Yes, every system designer leaves a back door, but the stardates of the sector implementations? Luckily, years earlier, the doctor had drummed a very simple motto into Cadet Brandt, one that had repeatedly served her well. Try everything.

Brandt flopped onto her stomach and sighed.

Was this bunk really more uncomfortable than Jim's, or did it just seem that way because she was the only one in it?

Jim. The way she missed him, you'd think they'd been together every night for the past six months. Six days, six months, it didn't matter. She couldn't get enough of him, no matter how much time they spent in one another's arms.

Blast Komack and his interference. She was absolutely certain that he had pulled the last-minute switch simply to deny her one of the more appealing aspects of the assignment. And, dammit, he *owed* her. She'd kept quiet three years ago, when she could have ruined him. Pounding her pillow in frustration, she cursed herself for not charging the old bastard when she had the chance.

Trying to calm down enough to sleep, she reminded herself that Komack was due for retirement soon. And then it would be clear sailing. No one else would waste time putting arbitrary obstacles in the way of an intra-Fleet romance, especially one that didn't break any major rules. Her CO had already turned a blind eye to the manipulations that allowed her to travel on the Enterprise as often as she did. The Fleet Captain was extremely willing to throw those assignments Jim's way, thanks to regular "gifts" of Romulan ale. And even Admiral Nogura had quietly told Jim that two line officers in a relationship that allowed frequent meetings and didn't violate the non-fraternization directive should consider themselves blessed by the Great Bird.

If *that* wasn't tacit approval, she didn't know what was.

Turning again, she was glad that she and Spock had chosen to stay on ship's time. It made it fairly easy to guess what Jim was doing at that moment. Lying in his bunk, quelling the tiny part of himself that was glad not to share the limited space, kicking off the covers, reaching for himself...

Much as she was doing.

If Jim were here, she thought, he would kiss me. He would fondle my breasts and pinch my nipples. He'd push my hair back from my face and nibble my lips. He'd roll me onto my stomach and kiss me all across my shoulders--Oh! The pleasure of his mouth against my skin. 'Lift,' he'd whisper. He'd slide his hand under me. 'Spread your legs.' So sweet to be led by him, to let him take command. And he'd touch me, teasing me with the tip of his finger until I'm breathless and dizzy. Then he'd kneel between my legs and pull me onto his thighs. I'd feel his cock against my ass. He'd push it down between my legs and press against me, entering me.

She imagined the heat, the weight, the pressure, and, most intoxicating of all, the sound of her name, crooned low and filled with desire. The intensity of the remembered pleasure took her by surprise, and she moaned softly into the darkness.

"Jim..."

* * *

"Jim..."

Spock was jolted out of a light meditation by the soft and unexpected sound. One syllable, infused with a longing so potent and complete that he momentarily believed that he had uttered it. One syllable, intended for the ears of one who was too far away to hear it, and spoken by the woman who had no reason to deny the need to utter that sound.

He lay down on his bunk and turned toward the bulkhead through which the whisper had traveled.

*Jim.*

What must it be to say that name in that way? To remember the open expression of desire, to believe that such an expression would be welcome again? To have no fear of the response?

What was the nature of the reality in which that sound existed?

In that whispered call, he had heard an entire history, the memories of pleasures shared, and the sure knowledge that the spoken word could invoke an experience that was more than fantasy.

But were he to break his self-imposed discipline and attempt to give texture to his desire through such an exclamation, there would be little satisfaction in it. For his words would not be shaped by reality and therefore could be no more than fruitless imagining.

*Kroykah.*

Vulcans do not indulge in unproductive speculation. He was not Jim's lover, and no word uttered alone in the darkness would alter that fact, or allow him to forget it.

He put his back to the bulkhead and refused the thoughts that lapped at his consciousness. And through the long, sleepless night, like so many nights before it, his desire remained unacknowledged and unvoiced, but not unmade.

* * *

"Commander Wallis, you're a tough man to track down."

The comm screen in Kirk's quarters displayed the face of Brandt's first officer. Behind Wallis, Kirk could see the distinctive multi-colored sky of Jadis, a popular vacation spot.

"Well, I *am* on leave, Captain."

"Understood. And I apologize for disturbing you, but I need to ask you a few questions."

Kirk heard a youthful voice shout, "Come on, Dad!"

"Excuse me, Captain." Wallis turned away and called into the distance. "Gail, take the boys to the flitter! I'll be there in a few minutes." He smiled sheepishly at Kirk. "Sorry, sir."

"It's all right. Jack, were you on assignment with Suzanne on Valentine's Day three years ago?"

"Captain, I have to--"

"Call me Jim." He smiled disarmingly.

"All right. Jim. I hate to ask this, but what's your authorization?"

"I'll be honest with you. I don't have any. But I need to know what happened on that assignment. There's something fishy about this mission on Beta Chorea, and I think the two are connected."

Kirk watched as Wallis weighed the regulations against the possibility that Brandt's assigned activities were not as safe as they appeared. Knowing that Commander Wallis was as loyal to Brandt as his own first officer was to him, and just as protective, Kirk checked the urge to cajole the information out of him. Just give him time, he told himself. He'll do the right thing.

After several thoughtful seconds, Wallis nodded pensively and said, "All right. Yes, we had just completed a mission. We were on our way back to Earth."

"What kind of mission was it?"

"We'd cracked an arms smuggling ring."

"So the mission was over?"

"Yes, except for turning the smugglers over to Federation Security."

"Do you know what she and Admiral Komack discussed over subspace radio during that time?"

"I wasn't aware that they were in communication."

"You weren't?" Kirk couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

Wallis folded his hands and said, "I don't monitor the captain's calls."

"I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to imply that you do. Do you know of any reason for the hostility between the two of them?"

Wallis relaxed and chuckled softly. "Other than the undeclared war between Command and Special Ops? No."

Kirk sat back and tried to make sense of this new information. Thinking of their mutual competitiveness, he found it unbelievable that Brandt hadn't said anything to him about the offer of promotion, unless it was related to something she couldn't disclose. He knew that many of her activities couldn't be discussed with anyone outside of Special Ops. But she hadn't mentioned it to her exec, either, and Kirk was fairly certain that Wallis knew where all the bodies were buried in Brandt's professional life.

He held out his hands in bewilderment. "Jack, does *anything* seem strange to you about this Beta Chorea assignment? Did Suzanne say anything to you?"

"When she was first given the assignment, I think she was a little put out by the lack of danger." His eyes crinkled mischievously. "In fact, I teased her about looking both ways before crossing the galaxy. But I think she liked the idea of rubbing Command's nose in it a little, and traveling on the Enterprise has a certain appeal for her..." He grinned.

"Anything else?" Kirk asked pointedly.

"Sorry. There *was* her meeting with Dr. Ludovic."

"Dr. Gwendolyn Ludovic? What does she have to do with it?"

"She designed the Beta Chorea computers. But when Captain Brandt went to ask her about them, Dr. Ludovic wouldn't give her the time of day."

* * *

The next day, the work proceeded quickly, as Brandt unlocked directory after directory. She'd discovered that Dr. Ludovic had abandoned the stardate passwords at the higher levels, but using the names of early computer pioneers wasn't much more original. Byron, Engelbart, Chao, Tork'hee...

She wondered idly why no one had been able to accomplish this remotely. Either the specialists at CenSys were incompetent or...someone had deliberately rigged the system. A tiny smile played across her face as she pondered the intriguing possibilities. A mysterious computer virus...sabotage from within...treason, perhaps...a galaxy-wide search for the perpetrators... Now *that* would be an interesting assignment.

She sighed wearily. A very interesting assignment that would almost certainly *not* go to Special Ops.

On his side of the console, Spock also found his work distinctly unchallenging. The data was solid and consistent, and bore absolutely no resemblance to what had been transmitted to CenSys. The long-range probes were functioning admirably.

By late afternoon, Spock estimated that, at their current rate of progress, it would take seven-point-two days to unlock, analyze, and transmit the information, bringing CenSys up to date. At which point, it would be logical to investigate why and how the data had been altered in the first place. Would Admiral Komack regard that as an appropriate assignment for a starship? Doubtful.

"Mr. Spock, is there anything strange going on over there?"

As Spock looked up from his monitor, his neck muscles twinged unexpectedly. Indulging in a series of neck rolls that were one-point-four hours overdue, he replied, "No, Captain."

"Come look at this."

Upon arriving at Captain Brandt's console, he scanned the information displayed on her screen.

"What do you make of that, Spock?"

"I...fail to understand your question, Captain."

She gestured impatiently toward the desktop. "This. What do you make of this?"

"Captain, I do not see--"

"Mr. Spock," she said irritably. "Do you think it's normal for the screen display to break into pieces that scatter themselves across the console?"

"I see no evidence of such a phenomenon--"

She stood and pushed him into the seat.

"Now watch this--"

As she leaned over him, blood dripped into his lap.

"Captain, you are bleeding."

"Don't worry about it, it's just--Damn! Why did you have to mention it?" She pushed up her sleeve, revealing an ugly expanse of scored flesh. "It itches like mad."

"Captain, are you unwell?"

Ignoring his question, she dug her nails into her forearm. "Shit shit SHIT!"

Her voice rose to an angry roar and, as she snapped her head in his direction, he saw her face clearly for the first time since she'd summoned him. Heightened color, sweat-slicked hair, dilated pupils... He knew it was illogical to jump to a premature conclusion, but nonetheless, he asked the first question that came into his mind.

"Computer, what are the symptoms of acaritone poisoning?"

"Working... Hallucinations; paranoia; hysterical strength; intolerable itching; fluctuating, occasionally overwhelming anger or anxiety."

"Scratch my back, would you, Spock?" Brandt asked. "Right in the middle. Spock? Scratch my--"

"Computer! What is the acaritone content of the atmosphere of this room?"

"Useless Vulcan," she muttered as she began rearranging non-existent items, dripping an uneven pattern of red across the empty surface.

"Working... The acaritone content is eighty-seven parts per million."

"Computer! When was the environmental seal broken?"

"Working... The environmental seal was breached three-point-two hours ago."

"Spock, look!" Brandt cried excitedly. "This actually makes sense if I put the pieces like this--"

Spock pulled her away from the console and dragged her into the corridor.

"Computer. Activate the environmental seal on the main computer room," he ordered. "What is the acaritone content of this corridor?"

"Working... The acaritone content is two parts per million."

Brandt struggled against the unyielding grip of Spock's hands.

"Spock, let go of me! I've got to stop the--"

"Captain Brandt, you have been exposed to acaritone. Computer! What is the recommended treatment for acaritone poisoning?"

"Working..."

"Shhhh! Spock, look," Brandt whispered as she pointed down the empty hallway. "What a time to be caught without phasers. If you can take the two Romulans, I'll--"

Spock picked her up and ran, as the voice of the computer echoed down the corridor.

"...Gamma-NH compound. If administered within approximately eight hours of exposure, G-NH counteracts the hyperactivity of the histamines in the brain. Tranquilizers are also advised. If untreated..."

* * *

In the locker room, Kirk pulled a towel across the back of his neck. His workout hadn't relieved the kinks in his shoulders, and the knot in his stomach was more insistent than ever. He stretched vigorously against the tightly drawn towel, but his stubborn muscles refused to relax. Acknowledging defeat with a muttered curse, he hurled the towel into the recycler, surprising himself with the vehemence of his action.

*All right, that's it. I'm sick of working in the dark. I'm going to have some answers, even if I have to bully them out of her.*

He moved quickly to the wall comm. "Kirk to bridge. Communications."

"Uhura h--"

"Uhura, raise the Beta Chorea station. I want to speak with Captain Brandt."

"Yes, sir."

He drummed his fingers against the bulkhead, composing the argument that would hopefully result in an end to the mystery.

'No excuses this time, Suzanne. There's something very suspicious about this assignment, you and Spock may be in danger, and I want to know what the hell is going on.'

Yes, dragging Spock in might work. As his CO, he could demand--

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Uhura here, sir. I'm sorry, but there's interference between here and Beta Chorea."

"What kind of interference?"

"Mr. Chekov's long-range scan shows intense solar eruptions on Beta Choreatricis. I can't break through."

"Keep trying, Lieutenant. Kirk out."

He sighed in exasperation. A solar storm. A perfectly natural occurrence. Nothing ominous about it at all.

He still didn't like it.

* * *

Even for a Vulcan, it was no small task to restrain a kicking, clawing human whose normal strength had been enhanced by the adrenaline increase associated with acaritone poisoning. Spock briefly considered a neck pinch, but dismissed it as unacceptably dangerous in light of the metabolic changes assailing Captain Brandt's body. Hoisting her onto the bio-bed, he swiftly secured the restraints around her wrists.

"Let me go, you green-blooded *yagbr!mo!*" she screamed.

Spock raised an eyebrow as he struggled with the ankle cuffs. During the tempestuous journey to the medical station, Captain Brandt had invoked eight deities, threatened him with dismemberment, and even cast aspersions on his mother. He was therefore not surprised to be accused of consuming small animals after engaging in sexual intercourse with them. But her Vrellan accent was impressive.

Securing the last of the restraints, he shouted, "Computer! Location of Gamma-NH compound!"

Unable to hear the computer's response over Captain Brandt's unending stream of insults and accusations, he clamped his hand over her mouth and repeated the command.

"Computer! Location of Gamma-NH compound!"

"Working... Gamma-NH compound is unavailable."


	3. Chapter 3

After a third attempt at reading the latest policy statement on first contacts in a hostile situation, Kirk pushed the report aside and impatiently rapped his knuckles against the desk. He'd left three messages for Dr. Ludovic with no response, and the waiting had left him more apprehensive than ever. He was pondering which favor to call in and from whom when the comm whistled.

"Kirk here."

"Uhura here, Captain."

"Have you gotten through to Beta Chorea?"

"No, sir, but Mr. Chekov reports that the solar activity seems to be abating."

Kirk sighed. "Keep trying."

"Yes, sir. And Detective Gina Beckman of the San Francisco Police Department is asking to speak to you."

"The police--? Put her through."

The screen blinked, and Uhura's face was replaced by a much sterner one, dominated by sharp green eyes and framed by waves of steel-gray hair. An ID was displayed in the lower right corner of the screen.

"Detective Gina Beckman, San Francisco Police Department," she said. "Captain James T. Kirk?"

"Yes, I'm Captain Kirk."

"I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"About?"

"In the past twenty hours, you've left three messages for Dr. Gwendolyn Ludovic. Care to tell me what those were about?"

"Would you care to tell me why you're asking?"

"Not just yet. What's your relationship to Dr. Ludovic?"

"She was an instructor at Starfleet Academy when I was a cadet. I wanted to ask her about a computer system she designed."

"Might that be the computer system on..." She looked down at her padd. "I have it right here...Beta Choreatricis. Is that the one?"

"What do you know about the Beta Chorea computer system, Detective?"

"Next to nothing. That's why I'm asking you." She waited a beat and then sighed. "Look, Captain, I'll play ball if you'll reciprocate. Dr. Ludovic is dead. Looks like suicide, but I have to investigate all the angles. She didn't leave a note, and we're having a tough time getting into her personal files. The only one we've managed to access is full of hysterical statements about the computer on Beta Choreatricis and a Suzanne Brandt. Haven't been able to get in touch with the Brandt woman."

A prickle crept up the back of Kirk's neck. "She's a Starfleet captain. She's on Beta Chorea, trouble-shooting that computer."

"Friend of yours?"

"Yes."

"The doctor's files also mention Gerry Komack. Know him?"

"Komack? Is he related to Admiral Richard Komack?"

"Kirk, I didn't contact you so that I could answer *your* questions. Do you know Gerry Komack?"

The sensation at the back of his neck began throbbing to the insistent pulse of a red alert. "No, I--How is he connected to Dr. Ludovic?"

Beckman gave as exasperated sigh. "Apparently, he's her nephew. He--" She turned away from the screen. "Yes, what is it? Hold on, Captain."

The screen faded to a muddy gray. Kirk quickly contacted the bridge.

"Scott here."

"This is the captain. Reverse course. Take us back to Beta Chorea, top speed."

"Aye, sir."

Uhura's voice cut in. "Captain, I've broken through the interference, but there's no response from the station."

Beckman's face reappeared on the screen.

"You still there, Kirk? Good. How close are you to Beta Chorea?"

"What's happened?"

"We've gotten into a couple more of the doctor's files. Sounds like your friend walked into a trap."

* * *

Captain Brandt's blank stare and the accompanying silence disturbed Spock much more than her earlier violence. He found himself wishing that she had continued to curse him, his ancestors, and all of Vulcan.

"Captain Brandt," he said.

There was, of course, no response, and it was illogical to attempt to communicate with her. He continued speaking, nonetheless.

"Captain Brandt, the Gamma-NH compound has been removed from the station, for reasons that I am unable to extrapolate. Nor are any tranquilizing agents available. I have sent out a distress signal, but it is highly unlikely that help will arrive in a timely manner. Without medical intervention, you will shortly become hopelessly insane.

"Your only chance of survival lies in halting the self-destruction of your mind. Vulcan meditation and healing techniques give me a considerably higher level of control over my neurotransmitters. I intend to initiate a mind meld with the goal of extending that control to you."

Banishing his reluctance to enter another's mind without permission, he pressed his fingertips to the meld points and entered the swirling darkness of a mind under attack.

Spock's experiences melding with humans had taught him much of the texture of the human mind, but he had always been careful to respect their privacy, touch as lightly as possible, and never enter where he was not welcome. As soon as his mind brushed Captain Brandt's, he knew he would have to put such constraints aside. The intricate weave of her thoughts was swiftly unraveling, but not around the edges where the most recent concerns and experiences resided, as one might expect. The most rapid deterioration was taking place at the core, among the earliest memories.

He worked quickly, grasping the fleeting impressions and reconnecting them to the larger images. But as he did so, he found that other memories grew, taking precedence over the small bits he held in place. Upon investigation, he found that one incident in particular threatened to oust all others. He realized that, if unstopped, it would grow until there was nothing in Captain Brandt's mind but a painful memory from her childhood. As he examined the overwhelming fear and loss, he heard the voice of a small child crying, "Come back, please come back!"

To Spock's horror, he realized that the only way to salvage Captain Brandt's memory of the experience was to relive it with her.

* * *

Spock entered quietly, careful not to disturb the fragile scene. The other occupants of the small sleeping compartment seemed unaware of him.

A woman was tucking the covers around a sleeping boy. He appeared to be approximately four years old and bore a familial resemblance to the woman. She pressed her lips to his forehead and then moved to the other bunk, casually tucking her light brown hair behind her ears. She frowned affectionately at the pajama-clad girl who was bouncing on the bed and tunelessly singing, "Oh, when the saints go marchin' in--"

"Shhhh, Suzanne, you'll wake your brother. Now settle down."

"Mommy, do you think Sundance misses me?" the girl asked as she flopped back against the pillow.

The woman smiled as she pulled the covers up to her daughter's chin. "Of course he does."

"But what if Nicholas doesn't give him a treat every day and tell him it's from me? What if--"

"Suzanne, Sundance loves you. And dogs never forget the people they love. You'll see when we get home. He'll drown you in doggy kisses."

"Tell me about Daddy again," the child demanded.

"You'll see him yourself soon enough."

"How long?"

"You tell me. It's twelve days to Cyrilius, and we've been traveling--"

"Eight, so that leaves four!"

"Right. And when we get to Cyrilius--"

"We'll have cake and presents--"

"Because--"

"I'll be seven!"

"That's right. Have you thought about your birthday wish?"

"Uh huh. Daddy's the boss there, right?"

"Well, he's the head of the terraforming project."

"So if I wish for him to take me outside the dome and show me the machines--"

"Suzanne..." The woman pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Your daddy is a very important man, and when we get to Cyrilius, he might not be able to spend as much time with us as we'd like--"

"But he'll be at my birthday party. And he'll hear my wish--"

"Even so, there are rules about who can go outside the dome--"

"But he's the boss!"

"Bosses have to follow the rules, too. Now why don't you think of another wish?"

The child put her face to the pillow and said in a muffled voice, "But that was what I wanted."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." She began rubbing her daughter's back. "Would you like me to sing the star song?"

The only response was an unhappy nod.

"Loo loo loo, I'll take you dreaming,  
Through the rainy night,  
To a place behind the raindrops,  
Where the stars are bright..."

As the child drifted off to sleep, Spock felt Captain Brandt slipping away from him.

"My mind to your mind," he said softly. "We are becoming one..."

He reached out and gave himself fully to the task of sustaining a human soul.

* * *

"Suzanne! Suzanne, come in here. I need you!"

I wake up. The room is dark, except for the nightlight. Dennis is asleep in his bunk, sucking his thumb. What a baby.

I go to Mommy's cabin. She's lying in the middle of the big bunk, and she takes my hand. Her eyes are strange, like the crazy woman I saw in a tri-vee show when the babysitter let me stay up too late.

"Suzanne, I need you to do something very important. Go up front and sit in the pilot's seat. Right in front of you, you'll see a row of five green buttons. Push the middle one. Go do that now. Then stay there and do as I tell you."

She sounds very serious, and it scares me, but I do what she says. The lights come on as I run down the corridor. I climb into the big chair, like I do when I pretend I'm the pilot. But this isn't pretend, it's important, Mommy said so. I push the green button, and then I hear her voice. It sounds like it's coming from the stars that are flying by.

"Suzanne, can you hear me?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"Good girl. Stand up on the seat and turn to your left. Do you see a yellow lever?"

"Yes."

"Can you reach it? Can you pull it down?"

"I think so."

I have to pull very hard, but I get the lever all the way down. A light above it starts blinking.

"Is there a red light blinking, Suzanne?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Good. Good. Now go back to bed."

I start down the corridor. It's empty and scary, and I force myself to walk slowly past the closed doors. The engines are humming and I usually like that noise, but now they sound like a swarm of bees just around the corner. When I get to Mommy's cabin, I run inside and try to get in bed with her, but she says, "No, Suzanne."

"Mommy, I'm scared."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm not feeling well, and you just sent out a call for help. Isn't that exciting? You were the pilot."

"But--"

"Now give me a kiss and go back to bed."

"Can I sleep with you?"

"No, not tonight. Go to your own bunk and go to sleep. Everything will be all right."

I kiss her goodnight. Her face is very hot. Sundance's nose was very hot once, that's how we knew that he was sick.

Mommy whispers, "I love you, sweetheart."

I go back to my cabin, but I'm too scared to sleep, so I wrap up in a blanket and sit in the corner. When the daytime lights come up, I sneak out into the corridor. I lock the door behind me so Dennis won't get out. He won't understand that Mommy's sick, and he'll be a pest.

I go to Mommy's cabin. Her blanket is wet and it stinks. I'm afraid to go to her, but she squints at me and says, "Is it you? Thank god you're here."

I stand by the side of the bunk, and she takes my hand. She squeezes too hard, and it hurts. I try to pull away, but she's too strong. She keeps calling me "Jill" and telling me how glad she is that I'm here. She asks if I still have "that damn cat."

I tell her it's me, I'm Suzanne, but she doesn't understand. I lay down beside her and listen to her, even though she isn't making sense. She finally stops talking and goes to sleep. Dennis is yelling and kicking the door in the other cabin. He probably wants breakfast.

Mommy wakes up and puts her arms around me.

"You're a big girl now, Suzanne. Someone will be here soon. Can you take care of Dennis until then?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"That's my good girl."

Her arms fall away from me. I get up and look at her. She looks different. She doesn't look like herself.

"Mommy?"

I shake her shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. I shake her harder.

"Mommy! MOMMY!"

I start crying. It's not fair. I don't want to be a big girl. I want her to wake up. I lay on top of her and beg her to come back. I cry and cry, but she doesn't wake up or pet my head or anything. It's not fair.

"Come back, come back! Mommy, please!"

When I can't cry anymore, I go into the bathroom and clean myself up. My nightgown stinks so I throw it away. I get one of Mommy's t-shirts and put it on. It hangs down to my knees like a dress.

I lock Mommy's cabin and let Dennis out. I get out fruit and cereal and put it on the table.

"Where's Mommy?"

"She's dead."

"When is she coming back?"

"She isn't."

He gets mad and hits me.

"YOU LIAR!"

I'm a big girl, I don't hit back. I tell him I made it up. We eat breakfast, and I cycle the dishes. We play with the drawing padd in our cabin. Dennis can't stay in the lines, but I pretend he's doing it right.

I go up front, and he follows me. The red light is still blinking. I climb into the pilot's seat and push the green button.

"Where's Mommy?"

"Be quiet a minute. I have to listen."

I listen very hard for her voice, but she's gone. Dennis marches around, stomping his feet.

"Where's Mommy? Where's Mommy? Where's Mommy?"

"Stop it, Dennis."

"I want to know! Where's Mommy? Why didn't she make breakfast? Tell me." He puts his arms around my waist and says, "Pleeease" in his best wheedling voice.

"Mommy's asleep."

I'm a big girl.

* * *

Kirk raced through the corridors, careening around corners and narrowly avoiding a collision with a passing crewman.

"Excuse me, sir," the man said, as he fell against a bulkhead.

Kirk never even heard him.

Around another corner, and there it was, the doors closing behind a woman who had just stepped out of it.

"Hold the lift, Lieutenant!"

"Aye, sir!" she responded as she stretched out her hand to stop the doors.

"Bridge!" he gasped as he slammed into the compartment. "No stops!"

The lift began moving.

"Come on, come on," he chanted under his breath.

* * *

"Come on, Dennis, eat your sandwich."

"No! I'm sick of cheese sammitches! I want sketti and meatballs!"

"So do I, but the synthesizer won't give me any."

Two men appear like magic. I drop my sandwich, and Dennis runs to me. The dark-haired man starts looking around, and the one with the beard turns off the red light.

"We received your distress call. Is there anyone else aboard?"

I nod.

"Can you show me?"

I get out of the chair, but Dennis grabs me and won't let go.

"I wanna go, too. Suzanne, I wanna go!"

"No, Dennis. Eat your lunch."

"I wanna go--"

The dark-haired man comes over, carrying the drawing padd.

"What's your name, son? Did you draw this?"

I take the one with the beard to Mommy's cabin. He goes in, and I wait for him. When he comes out, he kneels down beside me.

"What's your name?"

"Suzanne."

"I like that name. You're a very brave little girl, Suzanne."

He hugs me. His beard is very soft. I'm not crying, but he pets my head anyway.

"You're safe now, sweetheart."

We go up front, and he talks into a little box, and then we're all in a different place.

* * *

Kirk burst onto the bridge, and Mr. Scott quickly vacated the center seat.

"Report, Mr. Scott!"

"We're on course for Beta Chorea, sir."

"I want everything she's got."

"Aye, Captain, you'll have it." Scott turned to the engineering station, already planning how he would get more than one hundred percent out of the engines.

"Captain, I'm getting something from Beta Chorea now." Uhura turned to the captain with a puzzled expression. "It's a distress signal."

Kirk gripped the railing as he said, "Let's hear it, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir."

She flipped a switch, and a familiar voice began speaking.

"Stardate 5988.4."

Each member of the bridge crew silently performed the temporal-spatial calculations and realized that the signal had originated over two hours ago.

"This is Commander Spock of the USS Enterprise, issuing a medical emergency distress call. Captain Suzanne Brandt and I are stationed at the scientific outpost on Beta Chorea 3. Three-point-four hours ago, the environmental barrier was breached, and we were exposed to acaritone. As a Vulcan, I am immune to its effects. However, Captain Brandt is exhibiting the first-stage symptoms of the mental deterioration associated with such exposure. I have searched the station, and there is no Gamma-NH or tranquilizing agent with which to treat her."

Walking stiffly on legs that resisted his commands, Kirk moved to the center seat and sank slowly into it as Spock's voice continued to tear at his heart.

"I request that any military, commercial, or private vessel capable of rendering medical assistance respond to this distress call with all speed. Spock out."

In the thundering silence, Kirk reminded himself that this was what they sent you to command school to learn. Discipline. Calm. Professionalism. And how to fake it when you had to.

"Has any ship responded to that signal, Lieutenant?" he asked quietly.

"No, sir."

"Any response to our hail?"

"No, sir."

"Mr. Chekov, ETA to Beta Chorea at maximum warp."

"Sixteen-point-six hours, sir."

"Scotty--"

"I'll shut down all non-essential systems, sir. But that'll gain you less than two hours."

Kirk nodded and forced himself to unclench his fist. "Uhura, send this response on all frequencies. This is Captain James T. Kirk, USS Enterprise. We are proceeding to Beta Chorea 3 at top speed, in response to a distress call. Our ETA is--"

Instinctively, he turned to the science station.

"Stardate 5992.3," Chekov prompted.

"Stardate 5992.3. Any vessel that is capable of reaching the Beta Chorea system before then is obligated to respond and render assistance. Kirk out."

"Message sent, sir."

"Keep trying to raise them."

Uhura turned back to her board and set the hail to send repeatedly on varying frequencies. Hearing a soft exclamation from the science station, she turned and saw that Chekov had gone pale. He looked away from his instruments and caught Uhura's questioning gaze.

What? she mouthed.

He nodded toward his screen and pressed a button, transmitting the information to her board. As the words scrolled across her screen, she felt a sick emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

*Acaritone poisoning is treated with staged doses of Gamma-NH compound. Treatment should begin within approximately eight hours of exposure. Delaying treatment beyond this point will result in progressive, permanent damage to the brain, due to spreading auto-immune reactions. Treatment delays of more than sixteen hours are fatal.*

They were too late.


	4. Chapter 4

Shortly before 2300 hours, Dr. McCoy entered the captain's cabin and held out a bottle of amber liquid.

"Brandy, Jim? It's the good stuff."

Kirk looked up from the chessboard and almost smiled.

"I didn't know you stocked anything but," he said as he resumed rearranging the chess pieces.

"True." McCoy pulled up a chair. "But this is the *real* good stuff."

"No, thanks, Bones. I want to keep a clear head."

"Jim, we're still seven hours from Beta Chorea."

"Believe me, Doctor, I'm well aware of that."

He picked up the white queen and quickly set it back down, realizing that McCoy would surely notice how tightly he was gripping it.

"What do you know about acaritone poisoning, Jim?" McCoy asked.

"As much as I could get out of the ship's computer."

"Then you know that, after about eight hours, there's very little chance--"

"Yes, I know. Any other wounds you'd care to rub some salt in?"

He scraped the white knight across the board.

"Jim, stop playing with those." McCoy palmed the knight. "I just want you to be prepared for what we'll almost certainly find when we get there. In fact, it might be better if you didn't beam down."

"Out of the question."

"Jim, for once in your life, accept the inevitable."

"It isn't inevitable!" Hazel eyes flashed with anger.

"You have to face the facts--"

"Facts be damned!" Kirk strode to the other side of the room and spun back toward McCoy. "You want facts? I'll give you a fact. Spock is with her. That is a fact."

"Spock doesn't have the power of life and death! He can't work miracles!"

"He's done it before. He rescued me from the Tholian web. He gave Chris Pike a new life. He saved all of us on Melkot. Tell me those weren't miracles."

"Jim--"

"He'll find a way!"

McCoy observed Kirk thoughtfully. The urgency in his voice, the hard determination in his eyes, the powerful hand cutting the air--all betrayed the captain's overwhelming need to make this true.

Stubborn, yes. Jim had always been stubborn. And if stubbornness would get him through the next seven hours, what harm would it do? Plenty of time for harsh reality later. He went to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder.

"All right, Jim."

Kirk forced himself to speak calmly. "Spock will find a way. I have to believe that."

After a long moment, McCoy nodded and left, resetting the white knight as he did so.

Kirk sat down at the chess table and studied the configuration until late into the night, wondering what message McCoy had intended when he placed the knight next to the queen.

* * *

"Suzanne, do you want something from the dining hall? Maybe some soup?"

"No, Meg, I'm not hungry."

"But roommates should look out for each other--"

"Meg, please, just leave me alone."

She leaves, and I look out the window. It's almost dark. I can barely make out the shapes of the trees. Lady Jacqueline says that soon it will too cold to keep the windows open. It should be interesting to see snow. Sleet, too. And hail.

I close the window and sit on the bed, feeling tired from the heavy Terran air. Lady Jacqueline says to give it time, I've only been here three weeks. But the air drags on me. Especially today.

A vice closes around my insides. I lay down on the bed with the hot pack that Lady Infirmary gave me.

`Congratulations, Suzanne! It's your first period.'

Whoopee. I can't believe I have to put up with *this* for the next forty years.

*All right, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Think about something else. The astronomy essay. You're behind in your research.*

"Computer. Access Yuma & Levy, Entry 114."

"Working... Choreatrix, the Dancing Woman, is perhaps the most familiar constellation to the inhabitants of Kyros. It is circumpolar, never setting for the mass of the population living in the southern hemisphere. The crown of the Woman is made up of the asterism known as the Uneasy Dancers. Even in the abnormally rich skies of Kyros, the Dancers are a remarkable sight: three first-magnitude stars within twenty arcminutes of each other. The most famous property of the Dancers--"

"Computer, repeat 114.4."

"Working... Even in the abnormally rich skies of Kyros, the Dancers are a remarkable sight--"

"Computer, stop."

The abnormally rich skies of Kyros. Stars, nothing but stars, lighting the garden brighter than Earth's moon ever could, even at its fullest.

'More stars than any other place in the galaxy,' Mommy said. 'See the Dancers, Suzanne?'

'They're not dancing.'

'Yes, they are, but it's a very slow dance.'

I know that Kyros was originally settled by Terran colonists, but it's hard to believe. I can understand Earthers wanting to go to the moon. Its hard face dominates their sky. But interstellar travel? Why? There are so few stars here. It's more like a desert than a sky.

Maybe that's why they went.

My stomach cramps again, and I curl around Lady Infirmary's hot pack.

* * *

Kirk ran his fingertips across the controls on the arm of his chair, the only sign of impatience that he would allow himself.

"Mr. Chekov, what is our ETA?"

"Fifty-seven minutes, sir."

"I want to know the second we're within transporter range."

"Yes, sir."

A yeoman pushed a cup of coffee into the captain's hands, and he turned away from her sympathetic smile.

* * *

I look out the tall windows of the waiting room outside Lady Mother's office. The ice is hanging from the trees. The sunlight bounces off the snow and blinds me. I turn away, shivering. But not from the cold.

My father is here.

I refuse to be afraid. I refuse.

I remember the winter holidays, the terror and excitement of stowing away aboard a transport ship, and my relief when Dennis and I finally set foot on Kyros. It was high summer there, and when we reached our destination, we opened all the windows and gloried in the thrill of being back in *our house.* Despite its emptiness, it still felt like home. I showed Dennis all around, telling him how it was when we lived there with our mother. I don't remember much, but he doesn't remember any of it. I've tried to make him understand that she *wanted* us, we *belonged* to her, but, as far as he's concerned, we've always lived at schools, we never had a mother, and our father's work keeps him from spending time with us. He's right about that--the famous Dr. Brandt has revolutionized terraforming. But Dennis still wants to believe that he cares about us in some way. I know better. I've read my mother's diaries. He agreed to children on the condition that they would be *her* responsibility.

And now he's here because the ship on which I'd planned to stow away for our return trip to Earth was rescheduled. I had to contact the school, knowing Lady Mother would pay our passage and bill our father. Unlike the heads of other schools I'd attended, she didn't ask for my removal from her institution. But she did ask my father to become personally involved, and now he has traveled twenty-seven light years to do so.

The door opens. Lady Mother steps out and says, "Come in, Suzanne."

"Yes, Lady Mother."

In her office, she gestures toward the chair that faces the window. My father rises and walks toward me. He's lost more hair since I last saw him two years ago.

*Don't bite your lip, don't twist your hair. Remember what you accomplished.*

As he approaches, I see his right hand rise. Then it swings toward me, and I feel the back of it strike my face. I hear Lady Mother cry out as I stagger backwards.

I taste blood in my mouth as Lady Mother turns me toward her and puts her arms around me, trying to protect me from the blows that must follow. I pull away from her and turn back to my father, telling myself not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

But he does nothing. He's calmly straightening his clothing, and I realize he's not interested in making me cry. He's traveled all this way just to slap me, and my response is irrelevant.

Is that it? Is he just going to leave?

No. When he's satisfied with his appearance, he looks at me.

"Suzanne, I'm going to explain something to you. I mean every word I say, and I have no intention of repeating myself, so listen carefully."

I can feel my hatred coloring my eyes. And in his, I see something much worse. I see nothing.

"Are you listening, Suzanne?"

I respond, unable to bear the sound of his harsh voice crushing my name.

"Yes, sir."

I realize I sound too defiant. He draws a careful breath, refusing to allow me even the smallest triumph. I'm not worth his anger.

"If I am ever again pulled away from my work by your actions...if I have to come after you once more...if I receive one more report about running away...I promise you that I will put you and your brother in schools at opposite ends of the galaxy. And I will burn that house on Kyros to the ground."

"You can't! It doesn't belong to you! It belongs to Dennis and me!"

"Then it will be his loss as well as yours. Do you understand me?"

I want to scream, I want to claw his face, I want to kill him. But there's nothing I can do. He's my father.

"Yes, sir."

"You can jerk your chin all you want, Suzanne, but under Kyrosian law, you can't claim your inheritance until you're twenty-one. So if you want to stay near your brother and have an inheritance to claim in seven years, you will do as I say. It's that simple."

He goes to the chair and retrieves his overcoat. He comes back to me and speaks in a tone so low that I know Lady Mother can't hear him.

"And I can see that you're not admitted to Starfleet Academy, either."

Everything. He would take everything from me. He'd sell me to the Orions if he could.

He pulls on his coat and heads for the door. Lady Mother hurries after him.

"Dr. Brandt, surely you're not leaving without seeing your son."

"I don't think there's any need for that, Lady Mother," he says in an almost friendly tone. "The matter is settled. Isn't it, Suzanne?"

"Yes, sir."

Lucky Dennis.

* * *

"Approaching Beta Chorea, sir."

Kirk's body tensed with both fear and relief, and he hesitated a moment, until he was sure he could respond steadily.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu," he said as he hit the comm link. "Sickbay."

"McCoy here."

"Bones, get into an enviro-suit and meet me in the transporter room."

* * *

Mitchell and I fidget in the hallway. There's no other way, it's our own fault, we'll flunk Warp Physics if we don't pull this off, but still...it sticks in my craw.

"You ready?" he asks.

I nod. He presses the chime.

"Come!"

After one last bracing look at each other, we enter the room. Kirk's sitting at the desk, working away like the sanctimonious grind he is. His face hardens when he sees us. He stands up and says, "What do you want?"

Mitchell gives me a "go on" with two raised eyebrows.

"We've come to apologize."

*Come on, Brandt, you can do better than that. Sound contrite.*

"We know that you were trying to help. And we're sorry that you got kicked out of class."

He eyes us suspiciously, but finally says, "Apology accepted."

"Good!" Mitchell says enthusiastically. "No hard feelings, right? After all, no one gets through the Academy without earning a couple of demerits."

"I had intended to at least make it through the first two weeks," Kirk says tightly.

"Well, kid--" Mitchell says. Kirk frowns and, for just a moment, he looks old enough to be here. "--the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"And speaking of good intentions--" I smile in a way that Dennis tells me is 'a sure thing.' "--why don't you let us buy you a beer?"

He better say yes. I'm skipping baseball practice to make up with the little prig.

"I'm under age."

"Why do you think we're offering to buy?"

"Well...all right. One beer."

Mitchell winks at me as Kirk pulls on his jacket.

As we leave his room, Kirk says, "You know, it was pretty stupid of you two to play games in class for the past two weeks."

"I know. But I couldn't understand a word Dr. Toorenberg was saying."

Behind Kirk's back, Mitchell bats his eyelashes at me and nods encouragingly.

*Dream on, Mitchell. I refuse to lay it on that thick. I'll look bewildered, but that's as far as I'll go.*

"I don't know what I'm going to do." I shrug helplessly, not something I have a lot of practice at.

Kirk smiles and says, "It's not that difficult."

As we step into the lift, he launches into a beautifully clear explanation of the principles of warp technology. Mitchell was right. This guy is a sucker for lost puppies.

You don't know it, Cadet Kirk, but you've just started on a new and glorious career as our warp physics tutor.

And you do have a very nice smile.

* * *

For the sixth time, McCoy pressed the wrist control on his enviro-suit.

"Let's go, Doctor," Kirk said impatiently.

"The damn thing won't seal. I can't get a green--"

Kirk stepped off the transporter platform and picked up the med-kit.

"Jim, what are you--"

Kirk rifled through the contents and retrieved a hypo-spray.

"Is this set for Gamma-NH?"

"Yes, but--"

Resuming his position on the transporter pad, Kirk ordered, "Get another suit and beam down as soon as possible." He quickly confirmed the green indicator on his wrist control. "Energize, Mr. Scott."

"Aye, Captain."

* * *

The night air is cool and fresh. Glad I ditched my dress uniform for a daily. I stretch my arms toward the sky. Inside my briefcase, the dildo and the tube of lubricant rattle. Ha! What a homecoming celebration! At least I didn't leave the toys in the simulator. I stifle a laugh, thinking about the visit we'd be receiving from the Academy redshirts if I had. Well, we hoodwinked them often enough as cadets. Two highly-decorated captains shouldn't have a problem--

Halfway down the steps, Jim takes my hand. I look up at him. His eyes aren't smiling at me the way they were five minutes ago. Not angry, but not playful, either.

"Why?" he asks.

I clear my throat and look at him wide-eyed. "Why what?"

He laughs. "I don't know if you're playing dumb or innocent, but either way, you'll never pull it off. Why--all of it?"

I try to look nonchalant. "I thought you'd enjoy it."

"I *know* that. I want to know *why* you thought I'd enjoy it. You made some very interesting assumptions, Brat."

I shrug.

"All right." He sighs patiently as he sits down on the steps, pulling me down to the spot next to him. "Let's go through them one at a time. You *assumed* I would enjoy being dominated."

"You did enjoy it!"

"We're not discussing that. We're discussing how you arrived at that conclusion."

"God, Jim, it was practically a no-brainer. You're captain of a starship--you're responsible for the lives of over four hundred people. I thought that having someone else take charge would be erotic. I know the first time someone did that to me, I *loved* it."

His eyes narrow as he looks at me. Honestly. You'd think he was the only one who got around.

"And you've always enjoyed it when I turned the tables on you. I just never turned them so sharply before."

He rubs the back of his neck, considering my answer. "All right. You were...on the mark with that one."

"Thank you."

"Next. You *assumed* I'd had sex with a man."

I feel myself blushing. "You really shocked me there, JT. It just seemed...natural. I mean, you're the most libidinous creature this side of Orion's belt, and I couldn't imagine that you'd ignore half the available population."

"Now just a--"

"And you *do* have very intense relationships with men. I thought that you and Gary were lovers until he told me differently."

He very slowly folds his hands and rests his chin on them as he says, "What kind of conversation were you and Gary having when that came up?"

"We were at Kelso's engagement party. I don't know where you were."

"I was in Iowa. Sam and Aurelan were about to leave for Deneva."

"Oh, right. Well, we were pretty drunk, and I asked Gary when the two of you were going to register your china pattern."

"Jesus, Brandt!"

"That's exactly what he said. And then he delivered a long, incoherent lecture on the nature of male bonding."

"Hm. Yes, that sounds like Gary. So--finally--for the grand prize--a *Vulcan* dildo?"

Well, now I'm up against it. It's been a long time since I've played poker with Jim, but I do remember this. It's almost impossible to bluff him. I draw a deep breath and tell him the truth.

"I thought the rumors were true."

* * *

"Spock! Spock, can you hear me?"

With a moan, the Vulcan fell back into Kirk's arms. Kirk led him to a chair and eased him into it.

"Spock, are you all right?"

Spock looked up at him, puzzled.

"I thought the rumors were true," he said in a distant voice.

"Spock, are you hurt?"

Spock blinked several times and focused on the face before him. It took him a moment to realize that they were not on the steps of the Academy.

"Jim."

"Yes. Are you all right?"

Spock squinted against light that seemed excessive after the comforting darkness of the autumn night.

"I find myself somewhat weak, but essentially unharmed."

"Rest here. McCoy's on his way."

Kirk turned and slowly approached the bio-bed. The sound of his own breathing surrounded him, filling the enviro-suit and almost suffocating him. It took him a moment to focus, and when he did, he wondered who was lying there. Not Suzanne. She had never been so still, her body had never been that empty. It couldn't be her.

Steeling himself against what he would see, he looked at her face and found it uninhabited. There was nothing of the vibrant woman he loved in the frighteningly quiet form that wore her face like a mask. He looked around, half expecting her to saunter in and say, "What are you doing here, JT?"

He turned back to the woman on the bio-bed, and suddenly she did look like Suzanne. Any second now, her eyes would flutter open, she would indulge in a cat-like stretch, she would take his hand and smile.

He knew it was an illusion, an act of mercy from the part of him that needed to retreat from the pain. But he would have the rest of his life to feel the loss, so he allowed himself this last moment of self-delusion.

"Wake up," he whispered, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead.

And when she didn't respond, he slowly drew his hand away, knowing she wasn't there, and his words wouldn't carry to wherever she was. He closed his eyes against the chilling sight before it could mar the memories he had replayed through the long night.

Spock pulled himself to his feet and joined Kirk at the bio-bed.

"Jim, Captain Brandt--"

"I know, Spock." Swallowing his grief, he turned away from the unbearably still figure. "There was nothing you could do."

As Kirk raised his communicator, Spock's hand closed around his.

"Jim, she is not dead."

"What?"

"I used a mind-meld to control the--"

"I thought the rumors were true."

Both men turned sharply. On the bio-bed, Brandt was stirring, struggling weakly against the restraints. Her eyes were open. Blank and unseeing, but open.

"Suzanne?" Kirk whispered.

"I thought the rumors were true," she repeated.

Kirk struggled to open the pouch of his enviro-suit.

"I thought the rumors were true. I thought the rumors were true. I thought--"

As he pressed the hypospray to her arm, her voice rose to an hysterical scream.


	5. Chapter 5

After the turbulent return to the ship, Sickbay's outer room seemed strangely quiet. With Suzanne's screams still echoing in his ears, Kirk put aside his anxiety long enough to contact the bridge.

"Bridge. Sulu here."

"This is the captain. Ship's status, Mr. Sulu."

"Maintaining standard orbit, sir."

"Have Mr. Chekov assemble a team and beam down to the station in enviro-suits. I want to know why there was no alarm when that seal was breached."

"Aye, sir."

"Kirk out."

Kirk sank into a chair, glad to feel the sharp throbbing in his leg. Physical pain was far preferable to the chilling memory of the beamdown, still fresh in his mind.

Sinking, sinking, back into the slow-motion horror when he'd turned from Spock and seen...

He forced himself to stop. He would not remember that. Easier to remember beaming aboard the Enterprise with Suzanne fighting him, spewing obscenities, and clawing at his face mask. Alive.

How had she managed get the drop on him like that?

He heard a high-pitched cry from the next room and McCoy ordering Chapel to administer another sedative. He started toward the sound and stopped, realizing he would only be in the way. He should go to the bridge. But he couldn't leave. Not until he heard something from Bones other than, "I'll do my best, Jim."

As he paced in agitation, he found a small measure of comfort in the sound of his steps puncturing the cold silence.

* * *

Kirk's back was turned to the ward entrance when he heard McCoy approach. The calmness of his own voice surprised him as it asked, "Well, Bones?"

He turned and saw that McCoy was smiling. He wouldn't smile unless...

"You were right, Jim. That stubborn Vulcan pulled off a miracle. I don't want to be overly optimistic, but it looks like she'll pull through."

Kirk closed his eyes and sagged with relief, as suddenly, miraculously, the hideous emptiness receded.

"It's the darndest thing, though," McCoy continued.

Still hearing 'she'll pull through,' it took Kirk a moment to understand that McCoy was speaking.

"What?"

"She's responding well to the Gamma-NH, but I'm a little puzzled about the tranquilizer."

"What about it?"

"All my scans indicate that it's worn off. She should be screaming about pink mugatos right about now. But she's sleeping peacefully. Hell, the last time I looked, she was almost smiling."

"Explanation?"

"Well, as far as I can tell, she's in a healing trance."

"A healing trance? How do you account for that?"

"Possibly some sort of after-effect of the mind meld. They were linked for twenty hours. But whatever it is, it's working."

"How's Spock? He seemed disoriented when I beamed down."

"Stress. Mild exhaustion. He denied it, of course, but once I made it clear that he's staying here for at least twenty-four hours, he dropped into one of those trances, too."

"Can I see them?"

"Well, it won't do them any harm, and I think--" He looked at Kirk pointedly. "--it might do you some good."

* * *

Kirk entered the ward and saw Suzanne in the nearest bio-bed. To his relief, her stillness was quite different from what he'd seen earlier. The monitors hummed and chirped reassuringly. Alive. Just sleeping. Alive.

Spock was in the bed next to her, and, underneath the calm of the healing trance, the strain of the meld showed clearly on his face.

Standing between them, Kirk looked from one to the other. He could hardly imagine two beings more different, yet he loved them both and could not imagine his life without them.

How many times had he succeeded because these two believed it was within him to do so? Supported and challenged by each in different ways, he was overwhelmed by the realization of how much he relied on the permanence of their presence in his life. And how much he'd taken that for granted.

He found himself frowning as he studied them. Yes, they were very different, but there was *something.*

Suzanne, small and fair, sleeping with an almost childlike innocence about her. And Spock, somehow managing to look crisp and formal even in repose. Yet there was a similarity between them, something he couldn't quite put his finger on...

"You see, Jim? Sleeping peacefully, just like I said." McCoy came up behind Kirk and led him to the outer room. "And you look like you should be. Get some rest. I'll call you if I need you."

Kirk looked at him disdainfully.

"I'll be on the bridge."

As Kirk stepped into the corridor, he suddenly realized he *did* feel very tired. He hadn't noticed it before, but his entire body ached from the hours of unrelieved tension.

* * *

Four hours later, Kirk shook himself awake, momentarily confused about how he'd gotten back to his quarters. He staggered into the head and splashed cold water on his face until he felt fully conscious. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept like that. He couldn't even recall his dreams, although wisps of unsettling scenes danced just beyond his grasp.

Brushing away the mental cobwebs, he flipped the switch on the comm unit.

"Bridge."

"Bridge. Sulu here."

"Status, Mr. Sulu?"

"Maintaining standard orbit, sir. Mr. Chekov's team is continuing their investigation."

"Very good. I'll be there shortly. Kirk out. Sick--" He yawned loudly, shook himself again, and cleared his throat. "Sickbay."

"McCoy here."

"Anything to report, Bones?"

"Both patients are stable."

"Are they awake?"

"No." McCoy chuckled. "It's very peaceful."

Kirk smiled. "I'll stop by on my way to the bridge."

"Good. It slipped my mind earlier, but I should take a look at you."

"Bones--"

"No arguments, Captain. She got you pretty good. I'll set up a chair between Spock and Captain Brandt. You can sit there with an ice pack and watch them to your heart's content. McCoy out."

***

The next afternoon, every face on the bridge lit up as Mr. Spock stepped off the turbolift. Kirk swiveled in his seat, his smile turned up to its highest wattage.

"Welcome back, Mr. Spock."

"Thank you, Captain."

Kirk pushed out of his chair and joined the Vulcan at the science station. He didn't exactly limp but...

"Captain, is there something wrong with your leg?"

"It's nothing."

Spock frowned. "Is that the result of--"

"Spock, I didn't come over here to talk about my leg."

"Very well. What do you wish to discuss?"

"Well, Spock, I..." Suddenly the sincerely meant speech he'd planned seemed pompous and artificial. So he simply said, "Thank you for what you did. Captain Brandt means a lot to me."

"I am aware of that, Captain, but your gratitude is illogical. I merely--"

"--Did something that no one in the entire history of Vulcan has ever done before."

"The life of a valuable officer was at stake."

"A valuable officer. I see." Kirk rocked on his heels, beaming with amusement. "Very well, Mr. Spock. I'm sure Starfleet appreciates your efforts on its behalf. And whether it's logical or not, you have my thanks as well."

After a moment's consideration, Spock replied, "You are welcome."

* * *

Late that night, Brandt struggled toward consciousness, grappling with visions that refused to hold still long enough for examination.

'in the abnormally rich skies of Kyros--'

The garden. Her mother in the garden...

'See the Dancers, Suzanne?'

'They're not dancing.'

'Yes, they are. But it's a very slow dance.'

But it's not. It's much too fast.

Dancing...

Jim's arms around her, the Dancers watching them from above the lionia tree...

'JT, I don't think either one of us is good at the sort of thing you're talking about.'

'Maybe it's something we'd be good at together.'

The Dancers shimmy merrily as Jim taps her nose and says, 'You. Go. First.'

She went first. She went first. What if she hadn't? What would he have said if...

Dancing...

The steps of the Academy, the clear night sky, the Dancers twinkling and swaying...

'You made some very interesting assumptions, Brat.'

But you can't see the Dancers from Earth.

Dancing...

Jim's quarters. But Jim's not there. Just Spock, looking stunned. A sickening tug at her heart as she realized that she had been correct in another assumption...

'I'm glad there's someone at his side who loves him enough to bring him home safely.'

The Dancers laugh shrilly as they leap and twirl around her, but their merriment can't drown out the rough baritone that responds.

'Do you love him enough to send him back?'

Dancing...

Dragging her into their frenzied revelry, the Dancers spin her wildly, shattering all sense of time and place, past and future, dream and reality. She has strayed too far from home, too near the beckoning brightness, and now the gravitational pull draws her inexorably into the starfire...

* * *

"Captain Brandt, can you hear me? Captain, wake up."

Her eyes flew open, and she looked around frantically.

"What? Oh! Oh..."

Sickbay. Night. A stranger's face. A reassuring hand wiped the perspiration from her forehead.

"Take it easy, Captain. It was only a dream."

"Who are you?" she croaked.

"I'm Ensign Talltrees, the gamma shift nurse. You're on board the Enterprise."

"What happened?"

"I'll get Dr. McCoy. He wants to--"

"No!" She clutched his arm. "Get Ji--Captain Kirk. Please."

"The doctor's orders are--"

"I don't care! Just get--" She stopped, surprised at the desperate urgency in her voice.

"I'll make you a deal, Captain," he said gently. "I'll send for them both if you'll let go of my arm. You're cutting off the circulation."

She released him and watched him leave the room. Then she sank back into the pillow, trying to remember the dream that had left her shaking and confused.

* * *

When Kirk and McCoy arrived, she had had just enough time to become thoroughly embarrassed at dragging Jim out of bed to chase away her boogeymen. To the whir of McCoy's medscanner, she stammered out a blushing apology.

"Suzanne." Jim cut her off by placing a finger to her lips. "I couldn't be happier that you sent for me. Is there something you want to tell me? Something you want me to do?"

She frowned and shook her head. "I don't remember. I just..."

She studied the lines on his face. They hadn't been there when she'd last seen him, and she found this evidence of his suffering strangely comforting. Banishing that shameful thought, she reached up and traced the line at the corner of his mouth. He smiled, and the signs of his worry faded. Tentatively, she ran her hand along his arm. He was here beside her, solid and warm and real. Here, in a rumpled uniform obviously thrown on in haste. Here, because she had asked for him.

"I needed to see you," she said.

He gently pressed his hand against hers. "I needed to see you, too."

The diagnostic monitors beeped, the benevolent pulse to a moment of reassuring comfort.

"Jim." McCoy broke the spell.

"Hm?"

"You can't squeeze her hand while I'm taking her pulse."

"Oh. Sorry."

In the warm sparkle of Jim's eyes, whatever fears had made her demand his presence retreated.

* * *

Spock sat before the firepot and breathed deeply, feeling none of the calm he had come to expect from his nightly meditation.

Since his release from sickbay, he had immersed himself in his work. While Mr. Chekov investigated the safety lapse, Spock had taken Captain Brandt's place at the station's security console. Prior to the onset of insanity, she had apparently worked most efficiently. The pattern of Dr. Ludovic's security measures was sufficiently clear to allow him to continue disabling the protocols so that the data could be uploaded to the Enterprise.

With three analysts dedicated to categorizing the data, it was unnecessary for Spock to expend his efforts in the same area, which left him free to pursue the badly needed peace of meditation.

Except that he was unable to achieve even the most superficial level of reflection. Try as he might, he could not disregard what he had learned while connected to Captain Brandt. Her thoughts and experiences invaded his mind, demanding to be examined.

With a defeated sigh, Spock turned to the memory that he had determinedly ignored since he had emerged from his healing trance. The last moment of the meld.

The chill he had felt had nothing to do with the night air, which had been balmy by San Francisco standards. Moments earlier, the human whose consciousness he shared had been exulting in it. But as the conversation progressed, Spock had been so disconcerted by its content that he had unintentionally put some mental distance between himself and Captain Brandt for the first time in nearly twenty hours.

Ghostly and silent, Spock had watched as she and Captain Kirk discussed his relationship with his First Officer...

"I thought the rumors were true."

"Rumors?" Kirk repeated.

"About you and...Spock." She took his hand and massaged his knuckles. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"There are rumors about me and Spock?"

"Well, there *were,*" Brandt replied dryly. "I stopped a lot of them. I was afraid it might hurt your career. Fraternization, you know."

"What did you do?" Kirk asked in a guarded voice.

"I told everyone you were a raging heterosexual." She smiled, and he smiled back. A little.

"I think that might be the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"I..." He looked away and spoke to a point somewhere in the distance. "When I was fifteen, a friend of mine made a pass at me. I was curious, so we fooled around a little. But it didn't really do anything for me." He turned to her and shrugged. "Everything worked--I responded--but I had no interest in going any further or repeating the experience." He gave her an amused look. "Not at all like what I felt when I was with a girl."

"But tonight...with the dildo...you seemed to enjoy it."

"Yes, well, that surprised me too." He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment and then looked at her sharply. "But there was a lot more going on in that game than just sex, wasn't there?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"I have no desire to play that game with a man." He got up and paced back and forth at the bottom of the steps. "God. I wonder if Spock has heard the rumors."

"I seriously doubt it."

"Based on this evening's events, I don't know how far I'd trust your judgment."

She stood and joined him at the bottom of the steps. "I just meant that in order to *hear* gossip, you have to *be* a bit of a gossip. And that's not a term I would apply to a Vulcan."

He smiled ruefully. "I'm getting a lot of information here, and all of it disturbing."

She put her arms around him and frowned.

"Look, Jim, let's not make too big a deal out of this. You know the rumors aren't true, so what do you care? Now that you spend so much time with me, no one believes them anymore, if they ever did in the first place. And it's not hurting your friendship, is it?" Something she didn't recognize flickered in his eyes,and she repeated, "Is it, Jim?"

"No. Not my friendship with Spock. But the boy--when I was fifteen--he wanted more. He said he was in love with me. I told him I didn't feel that way about him, and after that, we were never comfortable with each other again. It destroyed our friendship."

"Jim, I'm sorry if I made you remember--"

He shook his head. "Not your fault. Everybody has their ghosts." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly. "Let's see if we can find a cab, all right?"

He took her hand, and they started across the quad...

Spock clenched his fists and rested his head against them. He was aware that it was not a Vulcan posture, but he had lived too long among humans not to have picked up some of their habits.

Such as hope.

Unfortunately, his upbringing had not supplied him with the proper techniques to endure its destruction.


	6. Chapter 6

"Dr. McCoy, when do I get out of here?"

McCoy looked up and saw Captain Brandt standing in the doorway of his office, one slippered foot beating an impatient rhythm against the floor. He rose from his desk and firmly led her back to the ward.

"Captain Brandt, less than forty-eight hours ago, you were in a near-coma. You're not going anywhere."

"But I feel fine, and you said my psych eval showed no damage."

"Back to bed, Captain."

With a sigh, she sat down on the bed and tucked her legs under the blanket.

"Can I at least have a computer so I can work on my report?" She gave him an ingratiating smile.

He was not impressed. "No."

"Well, what *can* I do?"

"Listen to music. Read. Sleep. Chat with visitors."

"All my 'visitors' are on duty."

"Then isn't it lucky that someone has taken on the responsibility of looking in on you twice a day?" Kirk asked as he came into the ward. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Never better," she said with a pointed look at the doctor.

McCoy wasn't impressed by that, either.

"You know, Jim, I'm developing a theory about gold braid," he said. "The more of it you have, the less likely you are to submit to medical care."

"Bones, I hardly think one case is enough evidence on which to base a theory."

"*One* case? Remind me to check you for memory loss, Captain. And, by the way, how's your leg?"

Kirk shot him a blistering look and said, "Suzanne, is there anything I can get you?"

"What's wrong with your leg?" she asked.

McCoy's face threatened to burst with satisfaction.

"I'll just leave you two alone," he said pleasantly and went back to his office.

"Jim?"

"How about something to read?"

"Why did he ask about your leg?"

"A minor injury. Are you thirsty?"

Their eyes met, and, after a quick assessment of the situation, she smiled sweetly and said, "Jim, don't make me pull rank."

Acknowledging defeat, Kirk gestured to the space beside her in the bio-bed. "May I?"

"Be my guest." She slid over, smiling an invitation.

Kirk sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his mouth to speak. But before he could utter a sound, the diagnostic monitors shrieked a cacophony of alerts. He quickly vacated the bed as the medical indicators bounced frantically up and down the panel.

"That better not be what I think it is!" an irritated voice called from the outer room.

Choking on laughter, Brandt scooted to the center of the bed as Kirk pulled himself into a stance of casual innocence.

"Shh!" they hissed at each other a split second before Dr. McCoy appeared in the doorway.

As the beeping of the scanners slowed to their normal rhythm, the doctor looked sternly from captain to captain. That fact that neither dared make eye contact with the other did not escape his attention.

"Well?"

Kirk cleared his throat. "I sat on the bed."

McCoy snorted, pushed his way past Kirk, and adjusted the panel controls. Then he gestured to Kirk and said, "Sit down."

Kirk did so, and the instruments continued beeping evenly.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"The monitors automatically adjust for whatever life form is occupying the bed. The two of you together were something it didn't recognize. I've fixed it so that it only monitors Captain Brandt."

Brandt bit her lip devilishly. "I don't suppose you'd consider turning them off for a while."

Kirk turned slowly toward Brandt, his eyes widening in a silent but eloquent warning.

"No, Captain, I wouldn't," McCoy replied. "This is a sickbay, not a bawdy house."

As he turned on his heel and left the room, Brandt shrugged amiably.

"It was worth a try."

She moved over, and Kirk settled comfortably onto the bed, wondering if they could sneak a kiss or two before the mechanical chaperones sounded the alarm. He slid his arm around her shoulders, and she gently elbowed him in the side.

"Your leg," she prompted sternly.

He withdrew his arm and sighed, disappointed and exasperated by her single-mindedness.

"Well. When I beamed down to Beta Chorea and released your restraints, you started fighting me. If I hadn't had an e-suit on, I think you would have clawed me to shreds. I managed to hold you still long enough for Scotty to get a lock on us, but when we materialized, you kicked me. Hard."

"Hard enough to be felt through an e-suit?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. Does everyone in Special Ops sharpen their boots?"

"Where did I get you?"

"Left leg. The upper thigh, to be exact."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Did I do any...noteworthy damage?"

"No, but two inches to the right and--"

"I don't even want to think about it."

"Neither do I," he replied, grimacing. "So do you want to hear the rest of the story?"

"This is a *story*?" She lifted his arm and draped it over her shoulders. Then she snuggled into him and said, "All right, go ahead."

Enjoying the weight of her body against his, he idly rubbed her back as he began speaking.

"Scotty managed to head you off before you got to the doors. But I don't think Bones would have ever gotten the tranquilizer into you if Spock hadn't helped us pin you to the wall."

"Oh, come on, Jim. I'm not that strong."

"You were then. It's one of the side-effects of acaritone poisoning."

"I wish I remembered all this." She started to smile.

"Well, here's the best part. Once we'd gotten you onto the anti-grav stretcher, Scotty said, 'Who would have thought a wee slip of a lass like that could--'"

Brandt sat up and opened her mouth to protest.

"Hold on, you'll enjoy this. Spock said, 'Mr. Scott, you would do well to remember that that 'wee slip of a lass' is one of Starfleet's most decorated officers.'"

"Spock said that?"

Kirk nodded.

She shrugged it off. "He probably intended it as a reprimand for referring to a superior officer as 'a wee slip of a lass.'"

Kirk chuckled. "I think he likes you, Suzanne."

"I'm not so sure about that. I've asked to see him several times. I think he's avoiding me."

"He's been very busy uploading the data from the Beta Chorea computers. But if you want, I'll--"

"No. Don't say anything. I'm sure he'll see me when he has time."

Kirk furrowed his brow. "What are you worried about, Suzanne?"

"I'd like to know more about that mind meld. I carry a lot of sensitive information around in my head."

"Suzanne, whatever Spock saw in your mind, I'm sure he won't reveal it. To anyone."

"I know. I'd just like to know what he saw."

"So would I," Kirk said quietly.

She pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Jim, I know I don't--"

"Suzanne, I didn't mean--"

"No, let me finish. I've been thinking about this." She smoothed and re-smoothed the blanket as she spoke. "You've told me about...things...that weren't easy for you to talk about. And I haven't reciprocated. I know I've been unfair to you, but it's not because I don't love you or trust you, it's just...being alone is a hard habit to break." She stopped fussing and said abruptly, "And there are parts of me that I don't like sharing because I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me. Especially you."

She turned toward him, not quite meeting his eyes, but watching for a reaction.

Wanting to gather her into his arms and knowing that such a gesture would be the worst possible move, he kept his voice even as he said, "Would I feel sorry for you? Are the things you haven't told me that bad?"

"No, they aren't," she said. "Or, if they are, I'm used to them. But you wouldn't see it that way."

"Hmm." He nodded thoughtfully. Catching her eye, he continued nodding with an increasingly exaggerated frown so that she would know she was about to be teased. "Brat, what if I promise that, no matter *what* you tell me--" He decided a little bombast wouldn't be out of place and began gesturing extravagantly. "--no matter how *horrible* it is--I'll laugh and say, 'Is that *all*?' In fact, I'll top it with something much worse, even if I have to make it up."

A snort of laughter escaped her, and she swatted at his chest with the back of her hand.

"It's a good thing you didn't decide to become a crisis counselor."

He held out his hands in mock confusion. "Just a few days ago, you were telling me how good I am at this. So is it a deal?"

"Can you promise that, underneath all your laughing and one-upping--" Her merry expression faded and she continued solemnly. "--you won't be thinking, 'Poor Suzanne?'"

"No," he conceded quietly. "I can't promise that. I don't know what I'll feel. I admit it hurts when I see you close yourself off, but it has nothing to do with whether you're being 'fair' to me. When I share things with you, it's not because I think I owe it to you."

"I know that." She leaned forward and hugged her knees to her chest. "But when we came back from Nevaris, I promised--"

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Suzanne, you can tell me anything, but tell me because you want to, not because you think you should." He turned her and said earnestly, "I'm willing to wait for that. I think you're worth it."

"I'll try not to disappoint you."

"If you did, it would be a first." He put his hand to her face, brushing his fingertips along the curve of her jaw. "You know, even if you told me absolutely everything that has ever happened to you, every feeling, every memory, I would still want more." His fingers strayed to the meld points. "I think I'm a little jealous that Spock touched your mind. The one place I can never be."

"You're wrong, JT." She closed her hand around his and pressed it to her cheek in a gesture so tender that it took him completely by surprise. "You *are* in my mind. And my heart. And my soul. Always."

She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it.

Kirk found himself staring into the deep blue of her eyes and marveling at the unguarded emotion revealed there. Why was this open acknowledgment of love such a rarity? He knew that Suzanne's first response to falling in love with him had been disgust with herself for not controlling the situation. When she'd confessed this to him, they had laughed over it, but, if he let himself think about it, he could become very angry at whatever hurts had made Suzanne so skittish of her more tender emotions.

But he refused to think about it and instead, he gathered the pleasure of this moment to his heart, warmed by the knowledge that, however few her words of love, at least they were for him alone.

"I love you, Brat," he said in a rough whisper.

After a moment of contented silence, the smile faded from Brandt's face.

"That's it? I make a beautiful speech like that, and you don't even kiss me?"

Chuckling at the sudden ending to the gentle scene, Kirk was reminded of an expression of his grandfather's. 'When pigs fly, you don't criticize them for not staying up too long.' Deciding she wouldn't appreciate the comparison, he nodded toward the panel above the bed.

"I don't want to set those off again."

"You must think you're one hell of a kisser."

"I seem to remember your knees buckling on one occasion about five years ago."

"Never! And if you're referring to our 'first time,' may I point out that *I* was the one who initiated the action on the night in question?"

"And you were about to chicken out when I took over."

"I--"

Kirk ended the discussion by leaning in and demonstrating that he was indeed one hell of a kisser. When he heard the chirping of the monitors accelerate, he pulled away and said, "I better go before Bones revokes my visiting privileges."

"Mmmm." She crossed her arms behind her head and smiled at him lazily. "I would hate for that to happen."

He stood and straightened his uniform, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

As he watched Captain Kirk leave sickbay with a satisfied bounce in his step, McCoy cocked an ear towards the ward. He listened until he was satisfied that the diagnostic monitors were operating at their usual level of activity. Then he turned back to his computer, grumbling, "I'm surprised they aren't purring."

* * *

"Spock to Enterprise."

Kirk flipped the switch on the arm of the command chair.

"Yes, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, have you read Mr. Chekov's report?"

"Not yet."

Uhura turned away from her station and said, "Excuse me, sir. It's just coming in now. I'll put it on a padd for you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Spock, give it to me in a nutshell."

"It is most disturbing. Apparently, the environmental control for the main computer room had been transferred to a hidden program. When Captain Brandt bypassed the security protocol at the sigma level, the seal was disabled, as was the automatic alarm."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Kirk out."

Kirk rubbed his chin pensively. Then he went to the communications station and said, "Lieutenant Uhura, contact Starfleet Command. Put it through to my quarters."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

As Kirk approached her bedside, Brandt pointed at the tricorder he carried.

"Please tell me that's packed with dirty holograms. I'm bored to death."

"I'm here on official business, Captain."

"Well, Dr. McCoy threatened to put me on report if I didn't stop bitching, but I didn't think he was serious." She heaved a dramatic sigh and held out her wrists. "All right. I confess. Take me to the brig."

When Kirk didn't even crack a smile, she became concerned. "Jim, what is it?"

"Suzanne, while you were on Beta Chorea, I got worried. I made a few calls, trying to find out why your assignment there felt so 'off.'"

"Jim, I appreciate your concern, but there's really--"

"Don't you want to know why the Enterprise returned to Beta Chorea?"

Frowning warily, she said, "Spock sent out a distress signal."

"We turned back before we received it. I had left a number of messages for Dr. Ludovic. Those messages were retrieved by the San Francisco Police Department during their investigation into her suicide."

Brandt paled. "Suicide?"

"I'm sorry, Suzanne. I wanted to wait to tell you, but I've just talked to Starfleet Command, and they want some answers."

"Answers to what? I don't have any answers."

"Do you know the present whereabouts of Gerry Komack?"

"Gerry? Where does he come into this?"

"Admiral Komack has been arrested for attempted murder. According to Dr. Ludovic's personal records, she was his accomplice in the scheme."

"Jim, you're not making any sense. Who did they try to kill?"

"You."

She blinked twice. "I don't understand."

"The situation on Beta Chorea 3 was a setup. Komack did some behind-the-scenes manipulation to ensure that you would be the one sent to resolve the crisis. Dr. Ludovic rigged the environmental seal to blow when the security protocols were breached."

"But she and I were friends. Why would she want to kill me?"

"Gerry Komack was her nephew and--"

"What?"

"Do you know Gerry Komack?"

"Yes, but I didn't know he was Dr. Ludovic's nephew."

"Dr. Ludovic's sister was Admiral Komack's first wife. She and the admiral believed that you were responsible for Gerry's death, although there isn't any record of his death. In fact, there's no record of him anywhere for the past five years."

Kirk watched her face as she shuttered every tell-tale emotion, finally understanding why she was such a rotten poker player. She saved her bluffs for real life.

"Brandt, I've been appointed the investigating officer on this end."

Caught by surprise, she blurted, "You?"

"I'm the only one out here with the rank and clearance to question you. And they want answers fast. So..."

Regaining her composure, she folded her hands in her lap. "Go ahead."

"Suzanne, this is an official investigation." He indicated the tricorder. "Whatever goes into this has to be the truth."

"Understood," she said tersely.

"Look. I don't know who you're protecting--"

"I *said,* 'Understood.'"

The silent stand-off lasted for nearly a full minute. Then he reached for the power control on the tricorder, but was stopped by her hand on his arm.

"Jim, wait. I--" She pursed her lips and ran her fingers through her hair in agitation.

"Yes?"

"Damn," she muttered as her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. There's no point in protecting anyone any longer."

"All right." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You ready?"

She nodded, and he turned on the tricorder.

"Stardate 5995.3. This is Captain James T. Kirk, commanding the USS Enterprise. I am in the Enterprise's sickbay with Captain Suzanne Brandt. Captain Brandt, for the record, please state your name, rank, and current posting."

"Captain Suzanne Brandt, Unit Commander, Starfleet Special Operations."

"Captain Brandt, are you aware that this conversation is being recorded?"

"Yes."

"And is this recording being made with your consent?"

"Yes, it is."

"Captain, I'm investigating an attempt on your life, evidently perpetrated by Admiral Richard Komack and Dr. Gwendolyn Ludovic. The motive, as stated in Dr. Ludovic's personal records, was revenge for the death of Gerry Komack. According to Dr. Ludovic's records, she didn't know that you were the intended victim until you visited her just prior to your departure for Beta Chorea. The police have been unable to turn up any record of Gerry Komack, dead or alive, for the past five years. Can you shed any light on this, Captain?"

He saw that Brandt was staring off into space.

"Captain Brandt?" he prompted her gently. "What can you tell me about Gerry Komack?"

"I knew him. We were...involved."

Kirk took a beat to distance himself from that statement.

"Involved how?" he asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

"We were lovers. About six years ago."

Kirk nodded, glad that their expressions and body language weren't being recorded.

"Go on, Captain Brandt."

"It wasn't a serious relationship. It only lasted a few months, and then it just fizzled out. Soon after that, I took command of the Wozniak, and I didn't see him again until three years ago."

"What happened three years ago?"

"My unit was assigned to break up an arms smuggling ring. One of the people we arrested was a man named Gregory Keyes, a minor player in the operation. I recognized him as Gerry Komack."

"Was Admiral Komack involved in this?"

"No. But somehow, he found out about Keyes. He contacted me while the smugglers were still in my custody. He asked if we couldn't make some sort of 'arrangement.' He suggested that I might let Keyes escape or misplace the evidence. In return, he offered me a promotion and a position on his staff. I refused."

"Did you report this?"

"No."

"After you turned him down, did the admiral threaten you? Then or at any time?"

"No."

"What happened then?"

"Keyes' fake background was impeccable--the best I've ever seen--and he never admitted to being anyone else. I saw no reason for his son's actions to ruin the admiral, so I didn't expose him. He was tried and convicted as Gregory Keyes."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"I believe he's serving his sentence on the Traylus penal colony."

Kirk moved to the computer.

"Computer. What is the status of Gregory Keyes, last known to be incarcerated on the Traylus penal colony?"

"Working... Status of Gregory Keyes: deceased."

Brandt turned toward the computer.

"Computer, when did he die?" she asked.

"Working... Gregory Keyes died on Traylus date 71.80.66."

"Computer, how long ago is that in earth-standard years?"

"Working... Two-point-one-five years ago."

"End recording," Kirk said quietly. He set the tricorder aside and took her hand. "I'm sorry, Suzanne."

"Poor Gerry," she whispered. "He told me that his mother died when he was nine years old. He was raised by his mother's sister, while Komack was on starship duty. Gerry called her Aunt Gwennie. I never met her or knew her full name, but Gerry said she would do anything for him. I imagine Dr. Ludovic was Gerry's Aunt Gwennie."

"Suzanne, don't blame yourself. He had to know the risks of what he was doing."

"Even so...he didn't deserve to die for it."

"Suzanne," he said firmly. "It's not your fault."

She looked at him strangely.

"Tell me something, Jim. In all the times people have said that to you, did it ever make you feel any better?"


	7. Chapter 7

Spock halted just outside sickbay as he searched his mind for the words that would ease the tension of the upcoming conversation. He had been working at the problem since his return to the Enterprise one-point-eight hours ago. But, try as he might, he could not get beyond, 'Captain Brandt, it was not my intention to invade your privacy.'

What words could he offer that would reassure her? What words would reassure him?

Despite the fact that his action had saved her life... Despite his intent to enter her mind while respecting her barriers... Despite his firm conviction that he would never reveal the things he had learned... One unassailable truth remained.

All of his questions had been answered.

Now it was time to answer hers.

Chiding himself for his un-Vulcan reluctance to address a difficult task, he straightened both his posture and his tunic, and entered sickbay at his usual efficient pace. Dr. McCoy came out of his office and greeted him casually.

"Mr. Spock. I was just about to close up shop for the night. What can I do for you?"

"I wish to speak with Captain Brandt."

"You just missed her. I didn't think she could do it, but she sweet-talked me into releasing her."

"I see. Thank you, Doctor."

Spock turned toward the doors.

McCoy followed him and said, "Spock, will you take a little advice from an old country doctor?"

Spock stopped and waited.

"Unless it's an emergency," McCoy continued, "it wouldn't be a good idea to disturb Jim tonight."

"I am aware of that, Doctor."

He left quickly, unwilling to stay a moment longer in the presence of McCoy's discerning intelligence.

Yes, he was aware. Aware in a way he had no right to be nor any wish to be. Aware with remembrance.

He remembered Captain Brandt's fear when Jim finally forced the issue of how they felt about each other. He remembered how her heart pounded when she first said, "I love you," and how it threatened to fly right out of her chest upon hearing those words echoed back. He remembered Nevaris, and her outward calm and inner terror when she paid the price of Jim's freedom. He remembered the aftermath, the explosive confrontation in Jim's quarters, and how it led to the acceptance of their present and promises for the future. He remembered the desperate lovemaking of every reunion and the searing anguish of every parting.

He remembered the first time...

Her stomach jumped with excitement when Jim swept her into his arms after she tried to back away from the seduction she'd planned. After a long kiss that clearly communicated his intent, he pulled back and looked into her eyes. "Yes?" he asked. She nodded quickly, afraid to trust her voice. He cocked his head expectantly, and she drew an uneven breath and said, "Yes." His fingertips were warm and feather-light as they began tracing slow, deliberate circles on her upper arms. She shivered under the touch that made her skin feel much too alive. His lips caressed her shoulder as his hand moved down her arm and wrapped around hers. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved up her neck and kissed the pulse point just under her jaw. Then suddenly his mouth was on hers again, a bolt of lightning shot through her body, and she put her hands on his waist to steady herself. As the kiss deepened, she stood on tip-toe in order to press her body to his and, at the moment when she felt his erection solid and hard against her, when she *knew* that the wanting ran in both directions, her knees trembled and nearly gave way. But Jim's arms were around her, and as he bent her back and pressed his lips to her throat, he murmured her name--not Brandt or Brat, but her *name,* tender and low. Her hands moved up his back...

By the time Spock arrived at his quarters, he was shaking with remembered sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. He entered quickly and did not breathe until he heard the doors shut behind him. Exhaling carefully, he stood perfectly still in the comforting austerity of his surroundings. As the dim light dispelled the bright visions, he looked around and was reassured that the vague shadows hid no demons.

He shook off the nonsensical notions and removed his clothing in preparation for his evening meditation. As he retrieved his meditation robe, he felt a thick heat enclose him, a heat that he realized was not modulated by the temperature controls. The room that had been his refuge from humans and their emotionalism was slowly filling with the exotic aura of a creature who embraced her own wants and passions, and defiantly flew against the harsh wind of logic.

He tried desperately to convince himself that only his human half was weak enough to surrender to such irrational fancies. But the pounding in his ears sounded ominously like the drums of the koon-ut-kalifee.

"It is not logical to want what one cannot have," he rasped. "It is not logical to wish to be what one cannot be. It is not logical."

He forced himself to breathe slowly, move slowly, light the firepot slowly, knowing that others were teasing and touching, whispering endearments, crying out in desire and fulfillment...

*No! It is not logical.*

He pulled on his robe and knelt in front of the firepot. Closing his eyes, he banished the tormenting visions and tried to find serenity in his solitude.

* * *

Kirk was just settling in for a long evening of paperwork when Brandt entered his cabin.

"Suzanne!" He rose, smiling. "When did--"

The rest of his question was muffled by a passionate kiss. As she began pushing him toward the sleeping alcove, he balked and said, "Were you released from sickbay, or are you playing hooky?"

"I'm free as the proverbial bird."

"This morning, Bones said he was keeping you one more day."

"He changed his mind," she said as she slipped a hand under his shirt. "He probably realized I have more important things to do than lay there listening to the diagnostic monitors."

She stood on tip-toe and began nibbling on the curve of his ear. Kirk turned his head, putting his ear out of her reach, and said, "Did he place any restrictions on your activities?"

She put her hands on her hips and walked away saucily. "As a matter of fact, he said--" She turned to him and slipped into McCoy's Georgia-accented speech. "`Captain Brandt, Captain Kirk has been a little edgy lately, so would you please go to his cabin and do whatever it is you do until he squeals for his mommy.'"

"I take it that's an exact quote."

"Well, close enough for government work."

With a sultry half-smile, she strolled toward him, intent on following the doctor's orders. As she clasped her hands behind his neck, he evaded an incoming kiss and said sternly, "Suzanne."

"All right," she said with an exasperated sigh. "I'm fine, but nothing too strenuous for a day or so. As Dr. McCoy so quaintly put it, `The only flavor you can order is vanilla.'"

"Damn. And I was just about to hang the trapeze."

She rolled her eyes. "Promises, promises."

Chuckling, he closed his arms around her waist, and their mouths met in a mutual welcome. Several kisses later, she rested her head against his chest and hugged him.

Kirk ran his fingers through her hair, turning her face up to his, and said, "Since the good doctor did not see fit to draw you a diagram, we'll just have to figure out what 'nothing too strenuous' means."

She cocked her head naughtily.

"I *know* what it means. Come on."

She took his hand and led him to the sleeping alcove, where she stretched out on the bed, moistened her lips, and breathed throatily, "Do me."

* * *

'Oh, yes. I'll do you,' he says.

There's a devilish glint in his eyes, and I feel a warm tingle between my legs just from that look.

I sit up and watch him as he undresses. I have never seen a body as beautiful as his. The perfect proportions. The movement of his muscles as he walks and turns and bends. There is both strength and tenderness in his hands, and I shiver, anticipating their touch. And his cock, rising arrogantly from the tangled hair, hair that is slightly damp and matted. His balls hang heavily below, and I long to hold them, to take them in my mouth.

But he is going to do me.

As he pushes his pants down, I see the ugly discoloration on his left thigh. Black and purple, with a sickening yellow around the edges. How could I have done that kind of damage through an e-suit?

As he steps out of his pants, he sees me staring at the bruise. He grins and says, 'Don't worry about it, Brat. It's not as if it's the first time you've marked me.' He closes in. 'I'm just grateful that you have such lousy aim.'

He sits down next to me, places his hands over mine, and kisses me. Much as I take pleasure in this tender caress and bask in his enjoyment of my mouth, I want more, *now.* I struggle to initiate more contact between us, but he will not allow it. Just our hands and mouths. His fingers entwine mine, tenderly imprisoning them against the bed, and I realize that he is quite serious about doing me.

He knows me, he knows that my passion is impatient. I nip at his tongue to ensure that he knows just how impatient. He pulls away and smiles at me, half love, half smugness. He knows.

I watch as he brings my hands up between us and kisses them. As he raises his head, I see our hands together, his almost completely enclosing mine. My skin looks pale and fragile peeking out from between his strong fingers. I bend my head and make love to one of his knuckles, sucking and licking. I hear his sharp intake of air, and a happy fluttering tickles my stomach.

Now our lips are together, and I am content to follow his pace. Our tongues take turns filling each other's mouths and, when he reaches down to remove my boots and socks, my mouth follows his so that we do not break. I hear the boots thud on the floor as he leans into me, easing me down to the bed.

He holds me in his gaze as he slowly slides my pants off. The hazel of his eyes is blazingly intense, and I wonder irrationally if that is the origin of the heat that engulfs me.

He slides my tunic off over my head and kisses a spot under my left breast. I have a mole there that he loves. If I were to kiss all the places on his body that I love, I would never get beyond kissing.

He tickles my navel with his tongue as he pushes my panties down. His mouth follows them down my leg and his teeth nibble at my toes. A jolt of liquid electricity fires my blood and curdles my insides.

He lays beside me and takes me in his arms. He holds me very close, and I can feel both our hearts beating. One arm is wrapped around my shoulders. His other hand is buried in my hair. We are very still for a long time.

'I thought I'd lost you,' he whispers, and my heart breaks.

'Never.' A hard lump rises in my throat, and my words are nearly soundless. 'You'll never lose me.'

I put my hands to his face and kiss him. His lips are soft. I know that later they will be firm, later his tongue will invade me, later his mouth will suck my nipples until they throb. But now we kiss tenderly. I ache with the awareness of the fragility of this moment.

As his tongue runs along my teeth, his hand cups my breast. I gasp, and he smiles--how do I know that? I just do. He smiles because he knows I will do much more than gasp.

Our mouths are busier now, and so are our hands. I press my palms against his chest and squeeze, using just a little bit of fingernails. He responds by barely touching me. Everywhere. His hands are everywhere. And when they brush quickly across my pubic hair, I strain toward them.

I feel his erection against my thigh, his hands cupping my ass, his mouth against mine. His kisses are quick and insistent, each one coming fast upon the other. I rock, slowly at first, then more urgently. I push him onto his back and straddle his hips. I have his cock in my hand, about to take it in. I close my eyes and--suddenly I am on my back. How did he--? He is lying half across me, holding my wrists over my head with one strong hand.

'I'm doing you, remember?'

How does he put so much into his voice? Affection, teasing, and just enough authority to melt me.

I make a desperate sound.

He releases my hands, and I run them through his hair. He puts his mouth to my breast, nuzzling and sucking, as his fingertip flicks against my other nipple. The same fingertip suddenly scurries down my ribs to my legs, and I moan. Then it tickles my nipple again.

Oh god. I know this game.

Yes, there it is again, flicking between my legs now, yes, again, a little more firmly. I open my legs and stretch toward his touch. Touch, touch...

He pulls away. I reach down and roll his balls in my hand. The weight, the glorious warmth. He groans softly, and his pleasure is mine.

Now he kisses me deeply and thoroughly as his hand slowly crawls down my stomach to the aching need below. And finally--at last!--he touches my clitoris, circling it slowly, deliberately.

More, please, more, more...

But no. He slides two fingers into me, and I ride them as I play with the head of his cock. I wrap my fingers around his shaft, and he pumps into my hand.

He withdraws his fingers and kneels between my legs. I guide his cock into me. He moves my hand away and leans in. I bear down, and he pushes his way in. I squeeze harder, to make it last. And then he lowers himself to me. The weight of his body on mine and the fullness of him inside me release something I did not know I was holding back. A harsh sound rips through my throat--explosive, good, raw.

I wrap my arms and legs around him, and we find our rhythm. I run my hands over his chest, onto his back, down his sides, and onto his buttocks. I feel his muscles flexing to the powerful cadence. I pinch his left nipple as hard as I can as I squeeze his ass with my other hand. He makes a choked sound and his entire body clenches.

More, Jim, I want to hear more. I want to drive you mad, just as you do me.

I raise my head and kiss him forcefully, inhaling the guttural noises he makes against my mouth.

He slides his arms around me and holds me tight, almost crushing me as he rolls me onto my side. We rock together, sucking each other's mouths, moaning and slurping. We build quickly, much faster than usual, straining toward release.

We might never have shared this again.

No! We are together now, and never is very far away. I hold him even closer, bringing all my strength against whatever force may try to separate us.

Oh god...his cock is pounding into me. I break from his kiss because I need to cry out. His mouth pursues mine and muffles my sounds. I break away again, and he rolls me onto my back.

He fills my vision. I feel his forearms on either side of me, his hands clutching my shoulders, his hips slamming into me. The sweat drips off him and falls onto my face. I lift my head and lick his chest, tasting his salt. He thrusts harder, and I fall back. I push upward and together we climb higher. Higher.

Almost there, almost there, almost--Now! Now! Now!

As my climax crashes over me, I look up. His eyes are tightly shut, the cords in his neck glisten with perspiration, and, in his face, I see his tortured need and the elation as it is met. He takes pleasure from me, oh god, I satisfy him. I feel him coming deep inside me, and I tumble into climax again. Gasping, laughing, sobbing--I am not sure which of us is making those sounds. Perhaps both. Perhaps it takes two to express what we share, what we create together.

Panting hard, he goes limp against me, still with me, still filling me. We are soaked with the mingled sweat of our lovemaking. His hand rests on the pillow, and I turn my head to kiss his fingertips. He starts to lift up, but I close my legs around him, unwilling to let him put even that much space between us.

'Yes. Keep me here forever,' he murmurs as he rests his head next to mine.

I will, I will...

Except I can't breathe with him on top of me, so I shift him to the side. He slips out of me, and we moan simultaneously. Laughing weakly, we settle in together. He closes his hand around mine and rests the other on my hip. We are nearly nose to nose, and there is no existence outside of this.

Silence. His hair tumbling over his forehead, his eyes lazy and half-shut, his breathing restful and unhastened. The simple nearness of him is almost a lullaby. I feel...very safe, very loved, and very much his. I believe he knows this, just as he knows I allow myself this only with him.

'I love your name,' he whispers.

'Suzanne Brandt?' I have always hated the flat-sounding syllables.

He frowns at me. 'Not when you say it like that. Like this.'

He turns me gently, and I feel his breath tickling my ear.

'Suzanne.'

A word, a whisper, a sound of exquisite beauty--all liquid vowels and soft consonants.

'Suzanne.'

I shiver at the color and texture of a name I suddenly love.

'Suzaaanne.'

It sounds very much like music...

...It does indeed.

But my name is not Suzanne.

I have not dreamed this. It is not a vision born of my meditation. It is real. It is happening now. But it is not happening to me.

Yet it is.


	8. Chapter 8

Cold.

Even under the blanket and pressed tightly against Kirk's back, Brandt was cold. She threw back the covers and got out of bed as goosebumps sprang up on her flesh.

Scurrying to the outer room to find her robe, she realized that the flimsy silk would be inadequate against the piercing chill. She grabbed Jim's robe from the back of a chair and pulled it around herself, but she felt little relief, despite the weight of the soft, nubbly cotton.

She sat down at the desk and said, "Computer. Temperature of this room."

"Working... The current temperature is sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit."

Impossible. It felt at least twenty degrees colder than that. What could have happened to the environmental controls? Why didn't--

A sound. Faint, barely there, but steady and insistent.

thrum....thrum....

It seemed familiar, yet she couldn't place it. Listening carefully, she realized that it wasn't exactly a sound. It was more like a texture that included sound.

thrum....thrum....

It was a dream. Of course. What else could it be?

The sound called her to...what? To answer. But how? What could she say? Where was it coming from? Away. Somewhere else. Somewhere she should be. Somewhere it wanted to take her.

thrum...thrum...thrum...

With a great effort, she denied the compelling sensation and padded softly to the alcove. She saw that Jim was still sleeping, relaxed and untroubled. She reached for him, she felt herself reach for him, but she did not move.

Obviously a dream.

thrum...thrum...thrum...

Now the sound was...not louder but more...more *there.*

She moved toward the doorway, and suddenly the sound was gone.

She turned carefully, scrutinizing a room that now seemed too silent. It felt empty and drained of life. She walked around the perimeter, searching for--

With a soft hiss, the doors slid open. After a moment's hesitation, she stepped out into the empty corridor, and as she did so, the sound-not-sound sprang up around her, bouncing gently off the bulkheads. She felt its thrill of anticipation, even recognition, as it welcomed her.

thrum...thrum...thrum...

It knew her. It called her name. If she would give herself to it, it would lead her, carry her to...

thrum...thrum...thrum...

She took a tentative step and was engulfed by the giddy quickening of her summoner.

thrum..thrum..thrum..

She moved faster and soon her heart was racing to the rhythm of this other.

thrum.thrum.thrum

She could no longer distinguish her heartbeat from the pulsating hum, or the sound of her footsteps from the swish of the robe around her legs.

thrumthrumthrumthrumthrum

She rushed along the corridors and sailed around corners, propelled by the urgent promise of--what? She would not know until she arrived at--

She halted suddenly in front of a doorway.

THRUM

She awoke and found that it was not a dream.

* * *

At the sound of the door signal, Spock rose from his place in front of the firepot and slowly crossed the room. He would not open the doors with a voice command. This summons must be answered personally. To do otherwise would be cowardice.

He straightened and reminded himself that there was no empirical evidence to support his certainty about the identity of this late-night visitor. But when he touched the control and the doors slid apart, logic dictated that he must believe the evidence of his own eyes.

He moved aside to allow Captain Brandt to step inside, noting that she did not display the usual curiosity exhibited by humans on a first visit to his quarters. She walked quickly to the steady glow of the firepot.

"Good," she murmured. "It's warm in here." She looked at him, her eyes clear and ingenuous. "The rest of the ship is freezing."

Spock's control nearly cracked under the onslaught of that seemingly innocent statement.

* * *

She sat down on the mat as if she belonged there. As she stared into the flame, Spock studied her and recognized the dark robe that hung loosely around her body. It was far too large for her, explaining perhaps why she looked so much smaller than usual.

He sat on the floor across from her, and she smiled awkwardly.

On several occasions, Captain Kirk had tried to explain the appeal of intoxication to his first officer. Under the warmth of that crooked smile, he finally understood what he meant.

"I should probably explain why I've disturbed you at such an ungodly hour," she said. "But I really don't know. There was a noise...well, not exactly a noise--"

"Captain Brandt," he said sharply as he clutched his hands in his lap. He turned away from the sight of her and hid his distress behind his precise words. "There has been an unforeseen after-effect from the meld we shared during your illness. A link has been formed between us. I do not wish to alarm you--"

"I'm not easily alarmed, Mr. Spock."

He turned and momentarily saw her as he always had--a Starfleet officer. Panic was not in her nature. He had been foolish to think he would have to soften this for her.

"How did this happen?" she continued.

"There are several possible causes, the most obvious being the length of time spent in the meld."

"Makes sense. What are the other possibilities?"

"On rare occasions, a link can be inadvertently established between two who are mutually compatible."

"Compatible? Us?" She raised an eyebrow.

"We do have at least one interest in common."

Her almost-whimsical expression faded. "Don't even joke about it."

"I did not intend the observation to be humorous. I believe this link is the result of a long, intense meld, although our connections to Captain Kirk may also be a factor."

"Is that possible?"

"There is some evidence to support such a theory. In the Vulcan Science Academy records, there are nine recorded instances of a link being formed through a third party who was not a participant in the proceedings."

"You've been researching this?"

"Yes."

"How long have you known about it?"

"I first became aware of it earlier this evening. At 2037, to be exact."

"So you called me here."

"No. *I* did not. The link called you here."

"I don't understand."

"Captain Brandt, do you know anything of the telepathic aspect of Vulcan mating?"

"I know that Vulcan partners bond mentally."

"The partners are linked in early childhood by a healer. The link lies dormant until the male experiences pon farr."

"What's that?"

Spock started in surprise. Although Starfleet now made accommodations for the demands of Vulcan biology, the specifics of those demands were not widely known. But he had assumed Jim would have told Captain Brandt how he had become engaged in a death struggle with his first officer.

"Were you not aware that, three-point-four years ago, the Enterprise made an unplanned voyage to Vulcan?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, I heard about it. It was the talk of the Fleet when T'Pau intervened on Jim's behalf. Some sort of medical emergency, wasn't it?"

Spock hesitated as he remembered Jim saying, "I haven't heard a word you've said." He realized he had wronged his captain. He had assumed that Kirk would have regarded Starfleet's sudden change in policy as a release from his promise of confidentiality. It was most gratifying to learn the depth of Kirk's loyalty, but it also meant that Spock must now enlighten Captain Brandt about the true nature of the 'medical emergency.'

"Pon farr is the apex of the reproductive cycle of the Vulcan male. At its onset, the link that was implanted in childhood awakens and compels him to claim his mate."

"And you're telling me that's what's going on here?"

"No, I do not believe so. But there appear to be certain similarities. The link between us has been activated."

"How? What activated it?"

Spock flushed slightly. "I believe your...reunion with Captain Kirk earlier tonight may have..."

"Oh god." She looked away as a blush rose to her cheeks. "I don't believe it."

"I fear it is true."

"It's not possible."

"It is not logical to--"

"None of this is logical!" she snapped.

He stood and pulled her roughly to her feet.

"Must I prove this to you?" he grated. Her arms under his hands, the elusive scent of her skin... He felt his control slipping away. "Shall I tell you how many times he kissed you? The exact pressure of his hand on your breast? Your pulse rate when he--"

"No!" she cried and broke away from him.

Shaking with emotions he did not dare put a name to, he pursued her. "Shall I demonstrate how he--"

"Stop right there, mister!" she ordered sharply.

He pulled up short, and they stared at each other.

Noting the leaping pulse at her throat, the dilated pupils almost blocking the sapphire of her eyes, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, he realized that her shock matched his own. And something else, perhaps...

No. Impossible. He had checked her records and found that she was almost psi-null. His reaction to the events in the captain's quarters had been strong enough to summon her, but that was all. All.

Breathing deeply, he retreated. Then, calling on both his Vulcan and military discipline, he said, "My apologies, Captain. My behavior is inexcusable. I will summon Security--"

"No, Spock. This isn't a matter for Security."

"Then, for your own safety, I suggest you return to Captain Kirk's quarters."

"I can't."

Deep within himself, in a place that none had ever touched, Spock heard the thought that she could not voice.

*I can't go back to Jim like this.*

His Vulcan calm in tatters, he looked at her closely and saw the unmistakable flush of desire. He took a trembling step forward, and she moved quickly to put the firepot between them.

"Let's concentrate on finding a solution, shall we? I don't think we need to compound the situation with..."

She trailed off helplessly.

"Agreed." I am in control. *I am in control.* "The link must be severed."

"Can you do it?"

"I do not know. Until fifty-two-point-six seconds ago, I would have said yes. Now..."

"Well, we have to try. What do I have to do?"

"Please sit. Action on your part will not be required."

She sank down on the mat, unwittingly tearing at his mask with her willing cooperation.

*I* *am* *in* *control.*

"If you will allow me to place my hand on your face--"

"Will you be all right with that?" she asked.

After a moment's hesitation, he went to the wall unit, unlocked it, and withdrew a phaser. Their eyes met as he handed it to her.

"If I come for you--"

"If you come for me, this will be useless."

She set the weapon aside, and Spock knelt down in front of her. He gently pressed his fingertips together and gathered what little remained of his self-discipline. He reached for her temple and put his fingers to the meld points.

* * *

A touch. A thought. A consciousness that was now nearly as familiar to him as his own.

To his relief, her mind was rational and well-ordered. He found none of the chaotic turbulence he had last encountered there, and he quickly banished the thought of it. She did not remember her madness, and he would not subject her to it.

He reached carefully, feeling his way along the quivering link. How were they connected? There had been so little contact between them prior to the meld. Only through Jim. Only through...

A promise. They had shared a promise.

* * *

Spock withdrew his hand and fell back on his haunches, breathing heavily.

"The link is too strong. I cannot break it."

"Did you see what caused it?" Brandt asked.

"Apparently, the potential for a bond was created during our conversation after you and Captain Kirk returned from Nevaris."

"I don't understand."

"If you will recall, you said that you were glad there was someone at his side who loved him enough to bring him home safely. I asked you--"

"If I loved him enough to send him back. I remember."

"You considered that to be a promise, did you not?"

"Yes."

"As did I. There is a Vulcan expression--Let your promise be as sure and true as a bond."

"That's not uniquely Vulcan, Mr. Spock. I believe they still teach it at the Academy. 'As an officer, your word is your bond.'"

Spock nodded.

There was a long silence. Finally Brandt asked softly, "Is there a Plan B?"

"We must go to a Vulcan healer. There is no other way."

"Will a healer be willing to do it? Isn't a link of this kind sacred in some way?"

"If it is the wish of both parties, a healer will not refuse such a request. I intend no insult, but I do not wish to take you as my mate."

"Same here." She stood and paced in short, quick steps, the robe flapping around her ankles. "All right. Tomorrow morning, we'll inform Captain Kirk of this...development, and, hopefully, Starfleet Command will allow the Enterprise to divert to Vulcan. I don't think there's anything else we can do tonight."

She paused near the doorway, deliberately keeping her back to him as she spoke.

"Spock, when Captain Kirk and I were...together...I imagine you found it distressing."

"Indeed."

"Until the link is broken, it won't happen again. Goodnight, Mr. Spock."

She reached for the door control.

"Captain Brandt."

How it hurt to call her that. Her name--her true name--rang sharp and clear in his mind. Tz'uzan. A name for a warrior to cry aloud in the heat of passion and the anguish of death.

She turned to face him.

"Your response to this situation is most commendable," he said.

"Spock, you saved my life. I can't quarrel with being alive."

"Nevertheless, many non-telepaths find the idea of a link disturbing."

"Well, I guess I'm not a non-telepath any longer. But I don't think the link itself is anything to be feared. And, between the right people, I can see how appealing it would be." She smiled wistfully. "It would be very comforting to be `with' the one you love, even when you're apart."

*Parted from me and never parted.*

Had the link forced those words to her lips? No matter. The ancient thought had been given shape and could not be recalled.

"Tz'uzan," he whispered hoarsely, and suddenly she was in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9

The coolness of her mouth and the roughness of her tongue surprised him, and Spock pursued both sensations eagerly. He pulled her closer and shuddered as she molded her body to his, a body that he knew was much more fragile than that of a woman of his own race. And that simple fact rendered her all the more exotic and desirable. She was alien, forbidden, human.

Furious hands pawed at his body, their barbarous chill feeding his fire and ravaging what little remained of his veneer of civilization. Unruly curls with a stubborn texture unknown on Vulcan raked his shoulder and filled his nostrils with the scent of Earth's lushness. Finespun fingernails ruthlessly scored streaks down his arms as she tore at his clothing.

Her every touch was a provocative affront to restraint, an audacious challenge--'This is what you want.'

"Yes," he growled as the heavy meditation gown slid to the floor.

Then, naked at last, he seized her and crushed her in a savage embrace. Remembering the cries of pleasure Jim had wrung from her, he rushed to discover the other side of the equation. As he smothered her kisses with his own, he felt himself drowning in pleasure as she struggled to match his strength.

Grasping and panting, they staggered around the room, consumed by the undiluted carnality of their most primitive drives. Finally, he slammed into a wall, and she flattened herself along the length of his body.

Then she raised her hands and pressed her fingers to his face. As her dormant fingertips ground into his temples, he saw her eyes widen in shock. With a wordless cry of frustration, she bore down in a merciless assault on his meld points. And though it was a purely physical contact, though it met only his flesh and not his psyche, something within him responded to her demand.

How could a human overpower him like this? She couldn't. But his own desire could.

With a swift motion, he turned her and pushed his hands into her robe--Jim's robe. She leaned back against him, writhing under his touch. As his hands traveled over her breasts, she reached up to grasp his hair, pulling it hard. He heard himself groaning as the sharp peaks of her nipples scraped his palms. His shaking hands grappled with the tie at her waist and, as it slipped free, she thrust her pelvis forward, wantonly exposing herself.

He reached down and parted her thighs with one hand as the other slid downward along the curve of her stomach. She arched to meet his hand, and he cupped the juncture between her legs, at last feeling her heat. Seeing a drop of perspiration racing down her neck, he bent to taste it, to capture it before it disappeared under the heavy collar. But as he pressed his mouth to her throat, he was met by the warm scent that clung to the thick cotton. He inhaled hungrily, and twin desires engulfed him. Jim, whom he had wanted for so long that it seemed he had been born with that want. And Tz'uzan, the woman whom the link drove him to possess.

Lust, jealousy, hurt, anger--denied for too long, they stripped away the last remnants of his reason, and he tore the robe from her body and hurled it to the floor. He would not battle his friend for this woman who thought of herself as Jim's. She would choose no champion to free herself. Consent would not be requested or given. He would know her, as Jim had known her. And she would know him, as Jim never had.

He reached for her thoughts and saw an image of himself joined with her, their bodies rocking in a passionate fury.

They would give and take what was demanded of them, and beyond that, nothing else mattered.

* * *

She pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, eager to take him inside. As she took his erect penis in her hand, he felt her surprise and wonder as she traced the outline of the double ridge. She stopped and savored the pang of imagining what it would feel like as it entered her, stretched her, filled her. He groaned as her anticipation inflamed them both.

Abandoning conjecture for knowledge, she lowered herself to him.

"No!" he gasped.

"Yes!"

Battling the insistent need to satisfy her, he pushed her away and forced her onto her back. Her flashing eyes signaled her intention to fight for what she wanted.

"I--will--have you!" she growled as she struggled against him.

"Kroykah!" he shouted, grinding her shoulders against the bed.

She struggled against him to no avail, and finally she turned her head away and swallowed an anguished cry. In the aching silence, he stretched his mind toward hers, and the turmoil he found there shocked him into an almost rational state.

She was fighting the urge to beg. Helpless and stunned by her unbridled need, this proud human had no understanding of what they had unleashed. Thunderstruck, he removed his hands from her shoulders.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she met his eyes as he extended two fingers to her. Mimicking his gesture, she lifted her hand to his. And as their fingertips touched, the doors between their minds slowly began to swing open.

*Look at me, and you will know what must happen next.*

As she yielded to the quiet power in his eyes, they both heard the faint warning from that part of her that insisted she should be afraid. He wrapped his fingers around hers in an unspoken promise that she would not be harmed. Quelling all voices but his, and not knowing where she acquired the knowledge or ability to do so, she opened her mind. And when the trust between them was complete, Spock showed her the dark beauty of the na'khere n'zai. The ancient ritual that was both claiming and offering.

She pictured her consent and soared with pride at the knowledge that she had pleased him. As he moved into position, she slipped free of herself and entered a world where there were no shields, no separation, no uncertainty.

He knelt above her, his knees on either side of her shoulders. As he stroked his penis, she ran her hands up his thighs, over his hips, around his buttocks. His desire enveloped her, and she trembled in a fever of wanting. Still she waited as he constructed the careful balance between control and release.

Finally he whispered the timeworn words, Vulcan words that she wouldn't have understood if not for his mind guiding hers.

*As rain in the desert, I anoint you with all that I am.*

She parted her lips, and he put the head of his penis between them. As a tiny amount of fluid spurted out, she closed her eyes and blissfully swallowed the molten copper.

He pulled away and moved down her body, ejaculating against each of her nipples, and sharing her surprise at the tiny paths of fire that burned around them.

Moving again, he knelt between the legs that opened willingly to him. The link was bright and steady now, and she pulled her knees up and held them apart with her hands.

Spock pressed his penis to the tiny pucker of her anus and came again, ejecting more fluid than in the three previous ejaculations.

She released her knees and spread her sex. As the link resonated with soundless music, her understanding grew, and she joined her will to his, knowing that his control must hold if the ritual was to be completed.

Still caressing his erection, Spock's eyes traced a path from her face to the womanhood that she proudly displayed to him. She cried out as he touched his penis to her clitoris and washed it with a liquid benediction.

*Tz'uzan--*

The stark beauty of that name swept across her mind like a desert wind, transforming everything it touched. With no past and no future, she tumbled joyfully into a landscape sculpted by the hot sands of Vulcan.

*I anoint you--*

He pressed the head of his penis into her, she pushed upward to meet him, and both rejoiced in the knowledge that her throbbing wetness against the sensitive ridges would drive him to another climax.

*With all that I am.*

As the words of possession and surrender flew across the link, a spark flared in her mind, and she responded to his claim with bold authority.

*Look at me, Spock ch'Sarek.*

Shocked that she had expressed the thought with no prompting, Spock pulled back. This was wrong, she should not be able to--

Although untrained in the telepathic disciplines, she saw his reluctance and drew on the one thing in which she was trained. Command. She brazenly thrust herself into his mind.

*Look at me.*

Utterly and inexplicably helpless, he obeyed and found himself captivated by the shining mist on her skin, the bottomless languor of her eyes, the indecent red of her lips...

*I am Tz'uzan, and I am yours.*

Gazing at the long-hoped-for sight of unfettered human desire and knowing that it burned for him, he was recaptured--by the link or the woman, he could not have said. He only knew that he was no longer alone.

With a shattering cry, he followed the path of his ejaculate as she wrapped her legs around him and drew him inside.

* * *

*Oh Christ. Jesus Christ. What have we done?*

Heart pounding with fear, Suzanne stumbled around in the shadows until she located Jim's robe. As she struggled with an inside-out sleeve, she heard a noise from the sleeping alcove. Turning quickly, she saw Spock standing near the mesh divider. He was clad in loose-fitting pants, but the sight of the dark hair on his chest, tapering down his belly, pointing to...

*No! It can't start again!*

She clutched the robe to her body, covering her nakedness.

"Would you mind?" she asked.

"Of course." He turned away.

She quickly untangled the errant sleeve and pulled the robe on, forcing her shaking hands to knot the sash at the waist.

"All right. You can turn around."

They faced each other uncomfortably.

"Captain Brandt," he began. "I must apologize--"

"Oh, please, Spock. There's no point in apologizing, and we don't have time for it. We have to think."

"May I inquire what you suggest we think about?"

"Well...in light of what just happened...can the link still be broken?"

"I believe so."

"Until it is, is *this* going to happen whenever we're together?"

"If by *this* you mean an overwhelming urge to mate--quite possibly."

"I see. Then we'll just have to avoid each other." She forced herself to meet his eyes, if only to prove to herself that she could. "Spock, this changes nothing. I'll tell Captain Kirk in the morning, and I'm sure he'll make best speed to Vulcan."

"I wish to be there when you share this with him. I cannot allow you to do this alone."

The first time she had been confronted with Jim's need to protect her, it had angered her. Now, seeing it in Spock, she was terrified, not by his need, but by her own. Refusing to hear the insistent hum that pulsed in her mind, she denied the impulse to give in to his request.

"Spock, if you're there, I won't be able to do it at all. I can barely think straight with you in the room."

*And if this destroys my relationship with Jim, I'd just as soon face that alone.*

As a wave of sympathetic understanding washed over her, she remembered too late that her thoughts were no longer her own.

* * *

The locker room was dark and empty, and Suzanne turned the lights up only enough to find her way to the shower. She set the temperature as high as she could tolerate and stood under the spray, shaking.

Irrationally, she remembered one of the house supervisors at school. If any of the girls stayed too long in the shower, she'd shout, "You can't wash off the guilt!"

I can try, she thought. How the hell can I tell this to Jim? How can I make him understand, when I don't understand it myself?

She scrubbed furiously at her skin, trying to eradicate the memory of Spock's touch. But nothing could erase the knowledge that had accompanied his rough caress.

Could she have stopped it? Shouldn't her feelings for Jim have given her the strength to back away?

No, of course not. Because no one existed in the link except the two of them. When Spock tore Jim's robe from her, he had also banished him from her thoughts. And she had given herself freely, to Spock, to the link, to whatever awaited her in that dark fury.

As she remembered the na'khere n'zai, her stomach turned over. She'd known the meaning of it instinctively. He had claimed her, bound her to him with the gift of himself. When she thought of how long she had fought against the idea of belonging to Jim, it sickened her to remember how quickly she had consented to being owned by Spock.

Had she actually said the link was nothing to be feared? It was more devastating than any weapon she had ever faced, more dangerous than the strongest enemy. It had destroyed her defenses and made her share with Spock as she had with no one else. There was no part of her soul that had not been possessed by him. And she had been glad of it. She had given all and wished she had more to offer him.

And when she realized that, yes, there was one more thing, one gift that only she could give, she didn't hesitate.

After his final climax, he lay on top of her, panting and drained. But the link was still burning brightly, and as he slid down her body, she knew what he was going to do.

He thrust his tongue into her as his thumb pressed firmly against her clitoris. And she gave herself over to the shattering pleasure, lifted by the sound of his tongue lapping up the flood of juices. Knowing that he did this for one reason and one reason only.

To taste his essence mingled with Jim's.

It had never been just the two of them, she and Spock. Jim had been there all along. She had brought him with her, and she had betrayed him.

She bent her head under the harsh spray and sobbed.


	10. Chapter 10

* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *

She couldn't even say it. She told me about the link, how it summoned her to Spock's quarters, how they tried to break it and couldn't. But after that, she stammered and hesitated and said, "We...we..."

So I finally said, "Fucked. That's what you're trying to say, isn't it? You and Spock fucked each other."

I didn't mean to use such harsh language. I tried to be matter-of-fact. At some point during the conversation, we had both become very Vulcan, not letting our emotions enter into it at all.

"Yes," she said.

I asked if she enjoyed it.

"Yes." Damn that blazing honesty. "But I didn't enjoy enjoying it. Can you understand that?"

Who better? I spent three months on Nevaris, being raped by a man who forced me to take pleasure in the seduction. I'm all too familiar with that particular horror. I reached for her, wanting the comfort of comforting her, and she pulled away.

"No, don't. I promised Spock..."

I felt something inside of me go very cold.

"What did you promise him?" I asked.

"He was aware of everything you and I did last night, Jim. It's very painful for him."

"And for you?" Why couldn't I stop asking those cruel questions? "Is it painful for you?"

"Yes. I still love you, Jim, but the link makes Spock a part of me. I can't hurt him. Even now...he probably knows what I'm feeling right now. I don't have any control over it. All I can do is avoid the things that will hurt him."

"Like being with me."

Why couldn't I pull back? Why was it so important to force her to say the things she was trying to avoid?

She turned away and said, "Yes," very softly.

I heard the pain in her voice and, to my shame, I was glad of my part in putting it there. She was trying to spare me, but I wouldn't let her. Making it easier for me would make it easier for her, and I couldn't allow that.

She went to the door and stopped.

"Spock and I have agreed to stay away from each other until this is resolved. We need a healer to break the link. If the Enterprise can't take us to Vulcan, we'll find another way. But until then...I can't be near you, Jim."

She left.

* End Personal Log *

* * *

The computer science lab was empty except for a lone figure, working diligently at the master console. Satisfied with the work he had been reviewing for two-point-four hours, Spock gave the command that would transmit the data to Starfleet Central Systems. Then he folded his hands and waited for the acknowledgment.

*U' eshikh sov-masu, vu ta'an-tor e'katra'ar.*

His head jerked in surprise at the unbidden thought. Refusing to acknowledge the lapse in self-discipline, he reached for the computer controls, intending to access the latest upload from Beta Chorea. But as he watched his hand move toward the console, he remembered another, smaller hand reaching for his meld points, and once again the sacred words taunted him.

*U' eshikh sov-masu...*

As rain in the desert. He had spoken the words of claiming, it was the right of the male, and yet she had been as rain in the desert to him, slaking his thirst and dissolving the rigid layer of logic behind which he hid.

*...vu ta'an-tor e'katra'ar.*

I anoint you with all that I am. All that he was, all his pain, all his desire. She had known all and embraced her role as the instrument of his release. And now he found himself imprisoned by the knowledge of his betrayal.

Was this his punishment for entering another mind uninvited? Humans believe that all knowledge has a price, and she was human. Through her, he finally understood what it was to be human, to live in the joy of expressed emotion, and to fear death as the ultimate silence. And the price of that understanding was the honor that had sustained him through all his loneliness.

She had come to him, innocent and seeking answers, and he had betrayed her trust. And now she was revealing his unprincipled actions to the man they both loved. Now Jim knew that the Vulcan whom he called friend was a traitor. Worse than a traitor. An animal who rejoiced in the theft of another's mate and then left her to face the consequences alone.

"I am a coward," he whispered.

It mattered not that she was a superior officer and had insisted on shouldering the burden unassisted. He had claimed her with the na'khere n'zai, and the word "alone" could no longer have any meaning between them.

"Computer!" he demanded. "What is the location of Captain Kirk?"

"Working... Captain Kirk is--"

"I'm right here, Spock."

The First Officer sprang to his feet.

"Captain."

Kirk stood in the doorway, remote and formal. He approached slowly, and Spock waited for him to speak first, as was the prerogative of the commanding officer.

"I've contacted Starfleet Command. We're on course for Vulcan, best speed."

Spock nodded slowly, momentarily at a loss to understand Kirk's choice of subject matter. As captain and first officer, they could discuss the ship, its mission and its crew, and little else. Then he realized that this was the only aspect of their relationship that he had not betrayed. Kirk obviously and rightfully considered their friendship at an end.

Spock silenced the protest that rose to his lips and said the words that any executive officer would have said upon learning of the intended journey.

"Captain, I must point out that it is inadvisable to travel at maximum warp for five-point-three days."

"Mr. Scott will have to manage it. I have no intention of slowing down."

Kirk started to the door.

"Captain."

Kirk turned to him slowly.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"I wish to explain my actions of last night--"

"Spock, I really don't want to hear anymore about last night. Captain Brandt told me more than enough to satisfy any voyeuristic curiosity I might have."

Spock felt the sharp rebuke like a slap. Then Kirk's voice dropped to a more moderate tone as he continued.

"But I do want to know one thing." He paused, rubbing his hands in agitation. "Just how much...communication is there between the two of you? Can you see her thoughts, even without touching her?"

Spock paused as he gathered the words that would accurately address the question, while diminishing the full harshness of his answer.

"As long as I direct my full attention to my duties," he said, "I am able to suppress my awareness of her, which can best be described as a low hum in the background. Since Captain Brandt has no innate telepathic ability, I must control this for both of us."

"And if you don't control it?"

"I believe I could tell you her exact thoughts at this moment."

"And they are?"

Spock closed his eyes and, knowing Kirk would be satisfied with nothing less than the truth, he whispered, "She is thinking of me."

"I see."

Spock opened his eyes, but he did not have to look closely at Kirk. He knew this man too well not to be aware of the pain his last statement had caused him. Yet old habits die hard, and he found himself waiting for Jim to wave away the transgression with an easy smile. But even the most generous and understanding of men had his limits, and the na'khere n'zai had carried Spock well beyond that boundary. But perhaps another, more innocent than he, might yet be saved.

"No, Captain, you do not see. Captain Brandt is not to blame for this."

Kirk looked away, rubbing his jaw pensively. Recognizing the familiar gesture, Spock realized that it was very unlikely that he would ever witness it again. Once the link was severed, he would have to transfer, or more likely resign. No commander would welcome so untrustworthy--

Kirk turned and looked Spock directly in the eye for the first time since he'd entered the room.

"Neither are you." Kirk sighed and put his hand on Spock's shoulder. "Spock, I don't know what to make of all this, but I don't think anyone is to blame. You saved her life. I said I was grateful, and I am. Even if you'd known that this would be the result--" He stopped and swallowed hard. "You're not to blame."

Kirk left quickly, and Spock stood motionless for seven-point-two minutes, still feeling the weight of Jim's hand on his shoulder and thinking how strange it had been to be in his presence and feel no desire.


	11. Chapter 11

* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *

0412\. I might as well give up. I won't sleep tonight.

Suzanne has moved her things to the guest cabin, and my quarters feel...abandoned. I spoke to her over the intercom and told her we were on course for Vulcan. She thanked me and asked me not to contact her again. She said that just the sound of my voice...

I can't help thinking of my counterpart in the mirror universe and the viewing device in his quarters. He can monitor any activity on his ship, and if he doesn't like what he sees, he pushes a button, and it ends.

What happened last night on his ship? Do our lives mirror each other's, as our universes do? Did he witness what I can only imagine? And if he did, did he push the button and end their lives? Did it ease his pain?

It would not ease mine. Spock and Suzanne would be gone, and I would still be alone with my questions.

I'm not completely ignorant about mind melds. I've shared it often enough with Spock, I know how it feels, I know what that type of communication is like. And Spock once told me that the more profound the connection between two people, the easier it is to meld. A deep, intense link such as Suzanne described could not occur between casual acquaintances.

What isn't she telling me?

Is it possible that whatever she has found in the link is more satisfying than what we have together? Emotional intimacy has always been difficult for Suzanne. The first time she said, "I love you," I had to trick it out of her. Perhaps she finds a link easier. No words are spoken, but everything is said.

And Spock. We've never discussed the implications of the koon-ut-kalifee, but I've come to believe that bonding may be more important to him than he lets on. From what I understand, there are very few unbonded adult Vulcans. Has this quirk of fate finally given him the mate he needs?

Are they drawn together by something more than just the link?

Are they in love with each other?

And if they are... Can I let go of Suzanne, if it means her happiness and Spock's? Because I would have to actually let go. The one thing they have in common is a deep sense of honor. She may leave me, but she won't take up with my closest friend. And he'll never take her as long as he thinks I still want her. I would have to let go...of both of them.

I've never thought of myself as possessive, but now...I don't know. The thought of Suzanne caring for someone else is like a knife in my gut. I was beginning to think of an actual future with her. She's a part of me.

And I'm possessive of Spock as well. How many times have I been grateful that he has no deep personal attachments, and flattered that he looks only to me for friendship? I can't imagine my life without him. And the Enterprise without Spock? Impossible. He's part of what makes her mine, part of what allows me to command as I must.

Spock and Suzanne. They mean more to me than anyone else in my life. But how much am I supposed to give? I've lost Sam and Gary and Edith and... Isn't there some point where I'm allowed to say, "No more. I won't make another sacrifice."

No, I guess not.

I'll get them to Vulcan so they can break the link. That's what they say they want. And if they decide on some other solution, I'm going to have to live with that.

But I'll be damned if I'll attend the wedding.

* End Personal Log *

* * *

0412\. Spock realized he had been staring mindlessly at the chron for three-point-two minutes. Berating himself for this lapse in discipline, he turned to the computer, but found, to his dismay, that he could not concentrate on the analysis of magnetrons in Sector Delta-12. He longed for the peace of meditation, but that was too dangerous to even consider. He did not trust his own mind. It hungered for her. It cried out to know her, unwilling to accept his decision to proceed as if the link did not exist.

But the link did exist, and it whispered insidiously.

*What is cannot be denied. To do so would be illogical. Jim is beyond your reach, as he has always been. But that pain is ended, destroyed by the flame of the na'khere n'zai. It burns in you, it burns in Tz'uzan. Even now, you are not parted from her. Call her, she is yours, it is your right!*

Shaking, he pushed away from the desk, not knowing where he meant to go. The voice propelled him toward the doorway, a voice he now recognized as his own.

*It happened so quickly last night. Now is the time to explore slowly and know the sweetness of two-as-one. Touching flesh and thought, sharing each other's pleasure, rejoicing in each other's strength.*

At the doorway now, he fought the compulsion to press the control and race through the corridors to the guest cabin.

"I am a Vulcan! I will not--"

*Yes, a Vulcan. And human as well. And now at last, both can be satisfied. For all the exotic strangeness of her body, did it not feel familiar? Was her mind completely alien? Were her thoughts incomprehensible? And once she understood the meaning of the ritual, her fears vanished, did they not? Despite the fragility of her wholly human body, did she not respond with a ferocity that few Vulcan females would attempt? Did she not attempt to seize control? Did she not willingly share in the destruction of all barriers? She *knew.* She understood. She delivered both Vulcan and human from torment, and she calls now.*

"NO!"

He staggered across the floor until he fell to his knees in front of the firepot. With unsteady hands, he lit the flame. Knowing that meditation would only draw him further into memories of the night before, he hoped nevertheless to use the flickering light to focus his thoughts.

"I am a Vulcan. This is not pon farr; it can be controlled. It must be controlled. I am a Vulcan."

Repeating the words, he barricaded himself behind a lifetime of discipline as he stared into a flame that now seemed cold.

He was a Vulcan.

* * *

0412\. Brandt almost cried out in frustration. Could it be only six minutes since the last time she'd looked at the chron?

She'd suspected the night would be bad, but this...this was unbearable. The endless agony of wanting...and the uncertainty about whom she wanted.

She'd never before realized what a refuge Jim had become for her. When she lay awake through long nights filled with the names of fallen comrades, when she was ambushed by an aching loneliness that she couldn't begin to understand, when the burden of being who she was simply became too much...the thought of Jim had been the spark that showed her the way through the darkness.

And now, she didn't dare think of him. Because she couldn't think of him without wanting him. And wanting--any wanting--made her remember Spock, what they'd done, and what she'd sworn would never happen again. Even as she silently reiterated that vow, the ghost of his touch crept across her body, opening the floodgates of memory.

The color rising in his face like a storm gathering over dangerous seas...

The hellish heat of his body against hers, purifying and destroying...

The biting sound of a name that was now her own, a hoarse shout as a lifetime of control was shattered...

Their hearts pounding an accompaniment of muffled drumbeats to their mad coupling...

...thrum...thrum...thrum...

Wild-eyed, she looked around the room. She heard it, she felt it, she responded to the treacherous promise.

"Stop it, stop it," she pleaded.

...*thrum*...*thrum*...*thrum*...

She clapped her hands to her ears, crushing them under vice-like pressure, and still the sound continued. And now it was echoed by an insistent throbbing between her legs.

"No--no--" she protested, her body turning to fire as she fought the summons.

There was no allure to it, no mysterious glamour as there had been the night before. Just the certainty of her eventual capitulation as each beat chipped away another piece of her will.

...THRUM...THRUM...THRUM...

With a despairing moan, she fell against the bulkhead, and, as she slid to the floor, she heard the gentle hum of the replicator cycling up.

'You fell against the control,' a small inner voice whispered. `You fell against the control.'

The control. *Control,* when she was being stripped of her own.

At the very end of her resolve, she pushed against the wall, forcing her way to her feet and praying through clenched teeth.

"I am in control. I am in control."

Swaying unsteadily, she slammed her fist against the bulkhead, welcoming the pain that momentarily dispelled the surging temptation.

"Security restraints!" she gasped.

Swinging dizzily between surrender and insanity, she managed to stay upright for the two-second eternity until the titanium cuffs appeared. She clawed at them, dropping the key to the floor as she slapped one end around her trembling wrist.

..THRUM..THRUM..THRUM..

She fled to the room divider and clamped the other cuff to the metal before she could think about what she was doing. Then she sank to the floor, and curled tightly around herself.

THRUM! THRUM! THRUM!

The last of her will disintegrated under the unearthly pounding as one syllable, harsh and stinging as wind-blown sand, was torn from her throat.

"Spock!"


	12. Chapter 12

Sulu slid the tray out of the food synthesizer, frowning at the nutritionally balanced but unappealing lunch. He thought longingly of the fresh fruit he'd brought back from his recent leave, the last of which had been consumed that morning. With a heartfelt sigh, he looked around the officers' mess and saw one of his favorite companions sitting alone. If he couldn't have fresh food, fresh scuttlebutt would have to do.

"All right, Nyota, you're the communications officer," he said as he slid into the chair next to her. "So communicate."

"What do you want to know?" Uhura asked as she generously seasoned her bowl of soup.

He leaned in and whispered, "What's going on with the captain and Mr. Spock? I don't think they've spoken a word since we blasted out of orbit around Beta Chorea. And this break-neck speed for Vulcan--"

"I haven't got a clue, Sulu."

He frowned at her. Usually that statement meant that she knew everything, but was keeping it to herself. Not today. She looked genuinely bewildered.

"Well, what's with Captain Brandt?" he pressed onward.

"The phantom of the guest cabin? Got me. I asked her to join me for dinner last night, and she refused to even leave her quarters. It was almost as if she were afraid. I thought I'd try again today, but there's a privacy lock on her door."

"I hate to ask this, but..." Sulu looked around conspiratorially and dropped his voice to an almost inaudible tone. "Did she and the captain have a fight?"

"If they did, you wouldn't even have to ask. You know as well as I do that it would be heard well beyond the captain's quarters."

Sulu blushed, remembering how he and Uhura had accidentally overheard a part of the roaring "discussion" that had followed the Nevaris mission.

"And even if they did," Uhura continued, "I don't think either one of them would let it affect their professional conduct, do you?"

"No. But can you come up with another explanation?"

They spent the rest of their lunch hour exploring several alternatives. The entertainment distracted them from the blandness of their meals, but it brought them nowhere near the truth.

* * *

At the end of alpha shift, the captain strode into McCoy's office, barely concealing his irritation.

"You wanted to see me, Bones?"

"Yes. Sit down, Jim."

"Can this wait until tomorrow? I just got off duty--"

"I know. That's why I wanted to see you now." The doctor reached into his desk drawer and retrieved two glasses and a bottle of Saurian brandy. "I understand that we're heading for Vulcan at top speed."

"That's right."

"Care to tell me why?"

"I'm sorry, I can't."

"Orders from Starfleet?"

"No. Bones, don't press me on this--"

"Jim, the tension on this ship is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Uhura told me she went to see Captain Brandt, and there's a privacy lock on her door--"

"Can it, Bones. It's personal," Kirk said more sharply than he intended.

"Well, then, let's make it official," McCoy shot back. "I don't recall declaring a medical emergency, but that's what's listed in the ship's log as the reason for this sudden change of course. So, as Chief Medical Officer, I'm asking for an explanation, Captain."

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck, and finally met McCoy's stern gaze. Almost relieved to be forced to share the burden, he sighed and tapped one of the glasses with his fingertips.

"Pour."

* * *

The next morning, Dr. McCoy activated the medical override on the guest cabin door and entered the darkened room.

"Lights," he said softly.

As the lights came up, the limp figure that was slumped against the mesh screen jerked away from the sudden illumination. McCoy hurried across the room and knelt down.

"Captain Brandt?"

"Who?" She squinted at him uncertainly. "Oh...Dr. McCoy."

As he turned her toward himself, her arm twisted awkwardly over her head. Looking up, he noticed the security restraint for the first time. He looked around and saw the release key on the other side of the room. He retrieved it and freed her over her incoherent protests.

"What happened here? Who did this?" he asked as he raised his medscanner.

"Don't," she said, pushing the instrument away. "I did it. I had to."

McCoy set the scanner aside. He didn't need it to tell him that things were very wrong. Poor color, dilated pupils, ragged breathing, wrist raw and bloody from the metal cuff. He gently turned her hands over and examined the red welts where she'd clutched the metal screen for too long.

"How far are we from Vulcan?" she whispered.

"Three days."

She nodded grimly.

"Captain, when did you last eat anything?"

She shook her head.

"Sleep?"

"Can't. It's worse--" She cut herself off.

"It's all right. Jim told me about the link."

She closed her eyes and grimaced painfully.

"Jim," she choked. She opened her eyes. "Jim," she said more loudly, almost as if reinforcing his name.

"He's very concerned about you."

"And...Spock?" She searched his eyes fearfully.

"On edge, but under control. Those Vulcan disciplines come in pretty handy. But you--"

"I'm all right." She inhaled deeply. "I'll be fine."

"Captain Brandt," McCoy said in his most no-nonsense voice. "I cornered Spock a while ago and made him tell me what's involved in breaking this link. It's quite an ordeal. And if you go on like this for three more days, you're not going to be strong enough for a game of 'Old Maid,' much less anything like what Spock described. As long as you're on this ship, I'm responsible for your health. And you're going to Sickbay."

"What good will that do?" she asked bitterly. "Do you have some kind of medical mind shield?"

"No," he replied as he pulled her to her feet. "But I've got a cabinet full of sedatives with your name on it. Let's go."

* * *

Alpha shift had barely begun, and Lieutenant Uhura thought she would scream if someone didn't say something soon.

The galloping speed for Vulcan had everyone puzzled and on edge, but, strangest of all, the captain, who was usually the source of calm and reason, was the center of the tension. He sat in the command chair, stone-faced and silent, speaking only to issue the necessary orders.

Uhura would have said things couldn't get any worse. But she would have been wrong.

At 0850 hours, Mr. Spock appeared on the bridge, after three days of working exclusively in the laboratories.

At 0925, Uhura cast a sidelong glance at the first officer. Since greeting the captain formally, the two men had not exchanged one word. Nor had anyone else made a single sound that wasn't absolutely required.

Spock looked tense, but he appeared to be functioning with his usual efficiency. As for the captain...well, his mask was firmly in place, and Uhura hated to even contemplate what it was hiding.

*Bang!*

Everyone turned in the direction of the sudden noise. More than one person instinctively reached for a phaser that wasn't there.

Yeoman deFranc bent down to pick up the duty roster that had slipped from his hands and fallen at the captain's feet.

"Sorry, sir."

Kirk signed the log and looked around at his bridge crew.

"Calm down, everyone. We may be breaking the speed limit, but we're not on red alert." He smiled and, for a moment, the tension was defused.

Reassured by the captain's gentle admonition, the crew turned to their duties. Deciding to take advantage of the momentary return to normalcy, Uhura started toward the main level to get the captain's signature on the comm log.

Suddenly, Spock sprang to his feet with a strangled cry and flew to the turbolift, almost knocking Uhura over.

"Spock, no!" the captain shouted as he leaped the steps.

Clutching at the railing, Uhura stumbled into his path. Disentangling herself from the captain, she heard the sharp hiss of the closing doors as Spock said, "Deck twelve."

Kirk swore, ran to the command chair, and slammed his hand down on the comm panel.

"Sickbay!" he barked.

"McCoy here--"

"Bones! Get to the guest cabin on the double. I think something may--"

"Relax, Jim. She's here. Everything's under control."

"On my way. Mr. Scott, you have the conn."

Pounding his fist against his thigh, Kirk waited for the doors open. After a nerve-wracking eternity, the turbolift arrived, the captain left the bridge, and the crew stared at each other in wide-eyed disbelief.

"What was *that*?" Chekov asked in an awed whisper.

"*That* was none of our business, laddie," Mr. Scott replied as he settled into the center seat.

Uhura returned to her station, trying to convince herself that she had not heard Mr. Spock cry out something that sounded like "Suzanne!"

* * *

Kirk raced into sickbay and was stopped at the ward entrance by Dr. McCoy.

"Bones! What's going on? Where's Suzanne?"

McCoy maneuvered the captain into his office, saying, "Take it easy, Jim. She's going to be fine. I sedated her."

"Why? What happened?"

"She wouldn't have made it to Vulcan any other way. Fighting the link was tearing her apart. She cuffed herself to the metal screen to keep herself from giving in to it."

Kirk sank weakly into a chair.

"I should have told you sooner. I didn't think..."

"Don't blame yourself, Jim. She didn't call me, either, even though she hadn't eaten or slept for nearly three days." He looked at Kirk quizzically. "But how did you know something had happened?"

"Spock left the bridge like a bat out of hell. Under the circumstances, I couldn't think of any other reason for his behavior."

"So where is he?"

"He went to deck twelve. The guest cabin. Can I see her?"

"I don't see any reason why not. Nurse Chapel is just hooking up the nutrition drip. I'll find Spock and let him know that everything's all right."

* * *

Kirk paused at the entrance to the ward, trying to calm himself before proceeding.

She's not dead, he reminded himself. And an echoing voice whispered, But it's very possible that you are. Dead to her.

"I don't know that," he said and entered the ward.

Nurse Chapel stood beside the only occupied bio-bed, fixing a mechanism in place on the patient's arm. He went around to the far side of the bed and reached for Suzanne's hand, but stopped short of touching her. Unwilling to examine the reasons for his action, he watched his hand move away from hers.

There was a gentle click as Chapel made the final adjustment to the nutrition drip, and, turning toward the noise, Kirk was astonished by the delicacy of the arm resting limply on the bed. In the few days since he'd last seen Suzanne, she'd lost both weight and color.

"She's so thin," he murmured.

"Just think of all the ice cream sundaes she'll get to eat when she wakes up," Chapel said reassuringly as she left the room.

Kirk studied Suzanne's face and saw that it was troubled despite the sedation. The dark circles under her eyes, the hollow cheeks, the deep line between her eyebrows--all that she'd suffered had left its mark.

He stood silent under the accusation of his conscience. He'd valued her too little to put aside his own hurt and jealousy. He'd heard she hadn't left the guest cabin and if he'd stopped to think about it for one minute, he would have known why. The link had lured her to Spock once; it stood to reason that it could do so again. But she had said she wouldn't go to him and, stubborn to a fault, she would do whatever she had to in order to keep her word. Independent didn't even begin to describe her. He remembered Gary Mitchell once saying she was "the only person I've ever met who thinks an offer of assistance is an insult."

What a path they had traveled since those long-ago days at the Academy. They'd been drawn together so slowly that he'd been surprised when he finally realized how firmly entrenched she was in his heart. And stunned at how right that felt. But it had frightened him, too. He'd lost so many of the people he cherished. He'd almost come to believe that fate intended never to allow him any long-lasting personal happiness. He'd fought the urge to hold her too close, to beg her to be careful, fearing the notice of the jealous god who gave and took away with the same hand.

He remembered the lurch of terror he'd felt when Spock left the bridge so suddenly. For the second time in less than a week, he'd been certain that Suzanne was dead.

"Jesus, Brat," he whispered. "You scared me half to death."

"Indeed."

He looked up and saw Spock on the other side of the bed, staring down at the sleeping woman. He watched the Vulcan's long fingers move tentatively toward her and pull back, just as his own had.

Spock raised his head, and their eyes met.

"Spock, I think we need to talk."

Spock nodded in agreement.

As they left the ward, Kirk wondered where he had ever gotten the idea that he could read that enigmatic face.

* * *

Spock had insisted that Dr. McCoy join them, and that had been Kirk's first indication that he and Spock had very different ideas of what the subject of the discussion was to be. The three men entered the briefing room in an unspoken acknowledgment that, if this conversation was to take place at all, it would have to be in a neutral location. They sat down, and Kirk and Spock regarded each other across the table. The awkward silence stretched into an embarrassment, which was broken when both spoke at once.

"Spock, I--"

"Captain--"

The two men instinctively turned to the doctor.

"Well, don't look at me," he drawled.

Kirk couldn't remember if he had ever before hesitated to speak openly to Spock. But despite the garish familiarity of their surroundings, this wasn't a briefing, and, even if it was, he could hardly ask Spock for recommendations when he hadn't yet stated the problem. Still, rank had its privileges.

"Go ahead, Mr. Spock," he said.

"Captain, before I address the current situation, I must first thank Doctor McCoy. I mistakenly believed my mental disciplines were strong enough to shield Captain Brandt. Had you not intervened, Doctor, she would have paid for my arrogance with her life."

"Just doing my job, Spock. Saving the lives of people who are too damn proud to ask for help." McCoy looked pointedly at both men.

"However," Spock continued, "if the link between Captain Brandt and myself is to be broken when we reach Vulcan, she cannot remain sedated indefinitely."

"Now just hold on, Spock," McCoy said. "When I found her this morning, she was at the end of her rope. If I bring her around--"

"Doctor, I have no wish to increase her suffering. But the severance of a deeply embedded link is not a simple matter. This morning, I contacted the Vulcan healer who will render this service. If I am not allowed to perform certain mental preparations with Captain Brandt, the consequences could be disastrous."

Kirk felt an apprehensive tingle at the back of his neck. "What do you suggest?"

"If Dr. McCoy can adjust the medication so that she is awake and clear-headed two hours prior to our arrival on Vulcan, that will allow adequate time for our preparations."

"Well, all right," McCoy grumbled. "I guess bringing her out of it two hours early won't hurt much."

"The healer also recommends a fast of at least eight hours."

"A fast?" McCoy exploded. "Out of the question. She hasn't eaten in nearly three days, and she's on a nutrition drip now. When she wakes up, she's going to be ravenous. And you want to put her on a fast?"

"Doctor, if you will restrain your emotions--"

"I'm not the one who needs restraining--"

"Gentlemen," Kirk interrupted, wondering how this had turned into the usual squabble between his exec and his CMO. "I'm just about to have Security restrain both of you. Now, Bones, can't you bring her around sooner so that she can eat something and then start the fast?"

"Well, yes, but that will mean at least eight hours of battling whatever it is the link does to her. And I don't--"

"Doctor," Spock interrupted. "Once I have completed the mental preparations, it is my belief that Captain Brandt will temporarily be relieved of the stress of the link."

"Your *belief,* Mr. Spock?" McCoy repeated. "Care to quote us the odds on that?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot do so. The healer's recommendations were based on her experience with Vulcans. No human has ever participated in such a procedure."

"Bones, I don't see that you have any choice," Kirk said. "Give her an eight-hour window. Spock will start the preparations as soon as you say she's strong enough."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock said.

"Hmph," McCoy snorted. "Do you need me for anything else, Captain?"

"No, Bones, you can go."

The doctor left, muttering something under his breath that Kirk was just as glad not to hear.

Knowing he could put this off no longer, Kirk cleared his throat and said, "Spock, I want to--"

"Captain, there is one more thing."

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" He retreated into the safety of his rank.

"Would you be willing to be present when I meet with Captain Brandt?"

"For what purpose?"

"Although it is my intention to prepare her for the healer's ministrations, it is possible that the link will once again overpower me. Should that prove to be the case, it is my hope that you will take whatever action you deem necessary to prevent a re-occurrence of the events of three nights ago."

"That's a very broad charter, Spock."

"It is one that I believe Captain Brandt will also endorse."

The comm whistled.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Scott here, sir. Captain, we simply cannot maintain this speed. The engines are about to fly apart!"

Kirk looked at Spock questioningly.

"At this point, a few hours' delay will be inconsequential."

"Very well, Scotty. Take her down to warp 5. Kirk out."


	13. Chapter 13

* Personal Log, James T. Kirk *

I hardly know how to begin. I have never before recorded anything of such a deeply personal nature.

I am in the home of Spock's parents on Vulcan. Sarek is off-world, but Amanda has graciously offered me her hospitality and an earth-normal environment in which to wait this out. Spock and Suzanne are in the hands of T'lyr, a healer of the highest repute. This unusual "surgery" will take several hours, and Amanda has discreetly left me alone with my thoughts.

I think I need to ease into this. I can't just start talking about last night. Perhaps if I begin with something less painful.

The three of us beamed down to Vulcan early this morning. Bones offered to go along, to keep me company during the wait, but, if at all possible, I want to limit the fallout from all this to just Spock, Suzanne, and myself.

Our first surprise was the presence of Spock's mother. Apparently, it has become almost de rigeur to notify her whenever humans visit Vulcan. It gives her a chance to be among her own kind. Naturally, when she was told that the humans were accompanied by her son and they were proceeding directly to the home of a healer, she became alarmed.

She and Spock left the room while Suzanne and I exchanged greetings with T'lyr and her assistant, Stennat. When they returned, Amanda greeted me warmly, and Spock introduced Suzanne as "Captain Brandt." I saw Suzanne wince.

"I will speak with Spock alone," T'lyr announced, and they left.

As we waited, I found myself watching Amanda. Underneath her easy conversation, there was a sadness that seemed to be growing with each passing minute. I suddenly realized how lonely Vulcan must be for her, and how warmly she would welcome another human into her family.

And Suzanne's usual shields were down. She lost her mother at an early age, and she told me once that she missed her "in the abstract." She didn't remember a real person. Now she was facing a real person, one who would be happy to embrace her as a daughter.

In mid-sentence, Suzanne looked up in a distracted, almost panicky way. Then she saw me watching her and regained her composure.

"It's nothing, Jim," she said. "Just a blip on the sensors."

I couldn't help wondering what Spock had said or done that set it off.

I asked Amanda to excuse us and took Suzanne out into the garden. Even though it was only mid-morning, the air was already hot enough to choke on. We found a shaded bench and sat down.

She looked at me expectantly. I had brought her out to the garden to say something, but even I was surprised by the words that came out of my mouth.

"Suzanne, don't do this just because you said you would. You have no obligation to me."

She lowered her eyes as she folded her hands in her lap. She almost looked like she was praying. After a few moments, she looked up at me and said quietly, "I don't?"

"If you want to stay with Spock, please don't feel that--"

"Do you want me to stay with Spock?"

I looked into her eyes, hoping to see something that would tell me what she wanted to hear. But she has never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and she had on her "officer's face," the inscrutable expression that she'd practiced to perfection at command school. I was on my own. I knew I should say I wanted whatever she wanted, whatever she and Spock wanted. I knew I should set their happiness above my own. And I knew I couldn't. If one word was all it would take to keep her, I had to risk it.

"No."

She exhaled slowly, and I realized that she'd been holding her breath.

"Don't scare me like that, Jim."

"Are you sure?"

"No. No, I'm not sure that things will ever be the same between us. But I know I love you. I didn't love Spock before this, and I won't love him afterwards. I don't know what to call what I feel for him now. Yes, something inside of me is responding to him, but it's something that was put there. It didn't grow naturally. My feelings for you haven't changed. They're just...temporarily inert."

"Suzanne, I know you believe what you're saying, but--"

"Jim, I have two words for you. Helen Noel."

Before I could argue with her, she was summoned by T'lyr's assistant.

I rejoined Amanda in the house. I found myself becoming unnerved by the quiet. There was an undercurrent to the whole thing that made me want to break something. Was it just Amanda mourning Spock's loss of a mate for a second time? Or was there some danger that no one was willing to divulge?

Stennat came in, and I asked him if they had started yet.

"No," he said in that careful accent. "The human requires assistance in achieving the proper level of meditation."

I told him I wanted to speak to T'lyr before she proceeded. He nodded and left. Amanda looked at me quizzically, but I didn't think she would have the answers to my questions. So we waited in silence, and Amanda left the room when T'lyr came in.

I asked her if the breaking of the link presented any danger to Spock or Suzanne.

"Based on the information I have, I cannot formulate an answer to thy question," she said. "There has been only one previous instance of a bond between a Vulcan and a human, and they have not requested its termination. But I believe the danger is minimal, provided the bond is severed in both minds in a timely manner."

"What do you mean by 'a timely manner?'"

"Were they both Vulcans, this would not be an issue, since the link could be severed in both minds simultaneously. However, the woman's lack of telepathy prevents me from doing so, and therefore one of them will be subjected to the sudden loss of response from the other. Spock has the mental discipline to survive this for a short time; the woman does not. I must therefore remove the link from her mind first. She will return to her natural state, and her mind will not search for the link, as Spock's will. But it is imperative that I terminate the connection in his mind as quickly as possible."

I demanded to know if Spock and Suzanne were aware of all this.

"In my conversations with Spock and the woman--"

"Her name is Suzanne," I said, unable to tolerate her professional detachment any longer.

"Very well. I informed Spock and Tz'uzan of all that I have just shared with you, and more. Each has expressed a wish to sever the link. Any further delay would be illogical."

So now I'm waiting. And remembering Suzanne's two words. I don't think she really knew what she was saying. She believes that what she and Spock feel for each other is artificial. There's no such thing. If an emotion exists, it's real, no matter what its source. When I loved Helen, it didn't matter that Dr. Adams had planted that in my mind. It was as real as anything else I've ever felt. Her rejection hurt as much as anyone else's. And even knowing it was for my own good, I was reluctant to be "healed," and I mourned the loss.

Despite Suzanne's reassurance, I'm very much afraid that the two people I hold most dear have consented to what amounts to the butchery of their souls, out of consideration for me.

* * *

I have no appetite for the lunch of fruits and vegetables that Amanda has provided. I've walked the perimeter of this room more times than I care to count. I've contacted Mr. Scott for the ship's status, and, for all I know, he may have said that the engines were about to implode.

There's nothing left for me to do but record the events of last night. Because if I don't, I'm afraid I'll convince myself that it happened in some way other than it did. My mind will draw a veil over the whole ugly scene, and I'll remember something else and think it's the truth.

Last night.

Suzanne came to my quarters so that Spock could prepare her for today's ordeal. I knew that it was almost impossible for them to be near each other without being drawn together. They were counting on me to keep things from getting out of hand.

We should have had McCoy there with an armful of sedatives. Or a couple of redshirts with phasers on heavy stun. Or I should have left them alone and let events run their course. They'd already been together once. What difference would it have made?

When Suzanne came in, I was a little surprised at the sight of her. I'd seen her unconscious in sickbay several times each day, and I'd almost gotten used to it. So I was a little taken aback at seeing her awake and alert. I felt myself responding to her presence and realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd thought of sex.

I had set up three chairs in the center of the room. She sat down, and I asked if there was anything I could get her.

"No, thanks. I've just eaten so much that I'd throw up if I didn't know it was the last food I'll have for some time."

I stood behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. Her muscles were unbelievably tight, and I started rubbing, digging my thumbs in where I know she likes it. She didn't protest, and I felt her begin to relax. I relaxed then, too, believing that things were going to be all right.

But after just a few seconds, she jumped to her feet and, moments later, Spock came in. He stopped just inside the doorway and stared at her. He said nothing, did nothing, but somehow I knew that he was struggling to maintain his composure. Finally, he turned to me and said, "Captain."

I asked if there was anything he needed to do before getting started.

"No. I believe we should commence as quickly as possible."

I turned to ask Suzanne if she was ready. She had both hands to her mouth, and I could hear her sucking in air through her fingers. She closed her eyes, and, for a moment, I thought she was going to pass out. Then she drew a shuddering breath, dropped her hands to her sides, and said rigidly, "Yes. Let's do this."

She sat down, Spock took his place across from her, and I took the third chair.

The instant Spock put his hand to her brow, I *saw* their minds touch. It was unmistakable. Suzanne's face lit up like a star going nova, and Spock's expression changed to one of indescribable peace. The sight of them together was so stunningly beautiful that I didn't act quickly enough when I saw desire spark between them.

I saw their arms wrap around each other and their mouths come together. I put my hands on their shoulders and was shocked by the heat, Suzanne's almost matching his. They shook me off and pressed together, tugging at each other's clothing. I lunged at them again and clutched at Spock's shoulder. He sent me flying across the room with one swing of his arm. I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head and blacked out.

I woke to the sound of flesh against flesh. I shook my head and looked across the room.

They were on the floor, naked. Spock was on top of Suzanne, pounding his body into hers, and she was arching upward to meet him, welcoming that brutal action. She cried out, and the painfully familiar sound pulled me to my feet.

As I stumbled toward them, I heard Spock say her name, but not her name. There was a hardness to the way he said it. It sounded...Vulcan. She groaned something I couldn't understand. I believe it was his name, the one no human can pronounce.

At that sound, everything shifted, and I knew only one thing. I had to stop them. I knew that one or both of them might kill me, and I didn't care. I'd fought Spock once before over a woman, one that neither of us wanted. This time it was different. He was taking what was mine, and she went to him willingly. It was the plak tow all over again, but this time, Spock wasn't the only one who burned.

As I reached for them, they rolled away from me, and then Suzanne was on top, frantically rocking and clawing his chest. Spock's hands were on her hips, in the same place mine had rested so often. I saw his fingertips pressing into her flesh and knew he would leave darker bruises than I did.

I pulled her off and dragged her across the room. She struggled and screamed, "No, Jim, don't! He'll kill you!"

My relief that she recognized me was cut short as Spock pulled me away from her. I tore at his arms as his hands closed around my throat. I heard Suzanne begging, "Don't, Spock! Stop! He doesn't understand! He doesn't know!"

Suddenly he let go and stared at me strangely as I staggered backwards, gasping for air.

"No," he said hoarsely. "He doesn't know."

I waited for him to go on, but he said nothing more. I was still choking--each breath was painful--but I managed to say, "What? What don't I know, Spock?"

Looking almost drugged, he stared at a point beyond me, his breathing shallow and labored. I turned to Suzanne and saw her stiffen defensively.

"Suzanne, tell me what I don't know!"

When she remained silent, I shook her, hard. I'm not sure which of us was more shocked by the violence of my action. She didn't fight me, she didn't retaliate, but she said nothing. I knew I should back off, but I couldn't. I thought of all the parts of her that were hidden from me, and I was determined to reveal the truth of this one. I had to know.

"Tell me!" I demanded.

She shook her head and wrenched free of my grasp.

I felt the heat of Spock's hands before I felt them on my shoulders. There was no rage or threat in his touch. In fact, it was surprisingly gentle. As I faced him, I saw...something. A fleeting glimpse of emotion, raw and uncontrolled. Then it was gone, and the room suddenly seemed much too quiet. Whatever dynamic we were playing out now, it was nothing like what had preceded it.

After a long moment, he raised his hands, and I thought he intended to initiate a mind meld. For what reason, I couldn't think. But he lowered his hands, resting them lightly on my shoulders once more. Then he frowned at me as if I were an anomaly on the sensors.

"Jim."

He sounded puzzled, almost as if he wasn't sure of my name. He turned his hands and studied his fingertips. Then he touched the tops of my arms and began outlining a circular pattern against my skin. His eyes followed the movements, watching from a thoughtful distance. Then a hot touch trailed down my arm, and one hand twined itself around mine while the other tilted my face up to his.

He turned to Suzanne.

"This is how he does it, is it not?"

She nodded just once, very slowly.

Then warm, dry lips were pressed to mine, lips that tasted faintly of Suzanne, and strongly of copper. His hands closed tightly around my shoulders and pulled me close. For a moment, I was too shocked to move. Then my hands moved of their own volition and pushed against his chest. I wanted to say, "No," but I couldn't escape his mouth. He held me tighter, he forced his tongue into my mouth as his hands moved roughly over my back. I felt his erection pressing against me, burning hot even through my clothing.

I thought it must be the link--he was acting out some passion of Suzanne's, some part of her that still wanted me. But even as I thought this, I knew I was wrong. This was *his* desire, *his* need, and it had gone unexpressed for far too long.

Spock. My friend. He was right--I didn't know. I swear...

No, I can't swear. Was I truly ignorant of his feelings, or did something in me deliberately refuse to see them? And did it even matter? Could I refuse his need? He had never refused any of mine.

And if I allowed this--if I accepted what was obviously going to happen regardless of my own wishes--wouldn't that be better than watching him take Suzanne, seeing her respond to him?

Yes, infinitely better.

It will be all right, I told myself, even as I remembered d'Lain Kevnan and what I'd been forced to do on Nevaris.

I commanded my arms to embrace him, to signal my consent.

"Kroykah!" Suzanne cried.

At that sharp command, Spock jolted away from me and turned on her, his body taut with rage. She raised her chin defiantly and said, "Spock. I am the one. He is not part of this. Not part of us."

He grabbed her face in one hand and growled, "You have known him. Will you not allow me this?"

I've seen that fury only once before in my life, when I realized Spock was going to kill me in the koon-ut-kalifee. And the calm on Suzanne's face--my god, she didn't even blink--I'd seen that before too. When T'Pring simply and logically asserted her rights and condemned me to death.

"I am the anointed one," Suzanne said. "You claimed me. Now I claim you."

Spock's hand dropped away from her face, leaving a red imprint on her jaw. She took a step toward him and, when they were almost close enough to kiss, she raised two fingers between them.

"Come to me, my mate," she whispered.

I saw the tension leave his body as he pressed his fingers to hers. They caressed slowly, oblivious to everything except each other. The sight of them touching that way struck me hard. The seemingly innocuous gesture was more intimate and blatantly sexual than any erotic act I'd ever witnessed, and it alarmed me more than anything that had preceded it.

"Suzanne." My voice broke on her name, the name I loved to say, the name that filled me with its music.

I don't think she even heard me.

"Spock," I said, knowing I would consent to anything rather than forfeit all that he was to me.

I wasn't even there. I had ceased to exist for either of them. I felt myself dying as I saw them disappear into each other's eyes. In desperation, I put out my hand.

Spock turned to me and said, "Go." There was no urgency in his voice, just a quiet authority and--did I imagine this?--regret. "Go now."

Feeling as insubstantial as a ghost, I followed as they moved into the sleeping alcove. I stopped at the screen and saw Suzanne lay down on the bed. She lifted her arms in welcome, and Spock lowered himself to her.

I turned away and pressed my fists to my eyes until I saw stars stabbing the darkness. But I couldn't shut out the sounds that pursued me.

I had to escape--I had to get out of that room or lose my mind. I staggered to the door and leaned against it, gasping for air. I fumbled blindly for the control and was about to press it when I made the mistake of looking back.

On the far wall of my sleeping chamber, gigantic shadows moved in a dark and hideous dance.

I fled.

* * *

"End personal log," Kirk said quietly.

Was there any need to continue? Surely he had recorded everything of importance. Nothing, less than nothing, had happened in the few hours between leaving his quarters and beaming down to Vulcan.

He rose and went to the window. Out in the garden, he could see the afternoon heat shimmering in the air, distorting the picture of colorful desert blossoms.

He turned his back on the view and surveyed the room. Comfortable, cool, quiet...a concession to human necessity. A place for contemplation and for truth.

"Computer, resume personal log."

* * *

I wandered the corridors. If I met anyone, I don't remember it. I recall very little until I found myself in one of the briefing rooms, staring at a blank computer screen.

Spock kissed me.

The words forced their way to the front of my mind and demanded to be examined. Spock kissed me. He wanted me. He would have taken me if Suzanne hadn't stopped him.

Even now, I can hardly think about it. My mind refuses to comprehend it. I was so sure of Spock, so certain that I understood him. And suddenly all my points of reference were invalid.

How could I have been so blind? I was so proud and happy to be his friend, and yet I never asked myself how he felt about being mine.

I don't know how long I sat there, rethinking the missions and chess games and conversations, and wondering if there was a different meaning in Spock's every word and action. But at some point, I must have put my head down on the table and fallen asleep. I remember dreaming.

I was back on Nevaris, in d'Lain's apartments. I was naked, on my knees in the middle of the floor. d'Lain was indulging in one of his favorite games. He sat in a chair about two meters from where I knelt. One of the female slaves sat on his lap, her legs spread wide. He watched me as he fondled her cruelly.

I turned my head, embarrassed to be a witness to her degradation. I heard a sharp cry, and d'Lain said, "I will continue to hurt her, James, if I do not have your attention."

I looked toward them and saw that the woman was Suzanne.

A part of me knew that this was a dream, it wasn't happening, it had never happened. Suzanne had never been tortured and broken by d'Lain as I had. But now, as she writhed in his grasp, her pain and humiliation overwhelmed me, and it didn't matter that it wasn't real.

"Please, Jim," she begged. "Make him stop."

"Yes, James," d'Lain mocked her. "Make me stop."

God, yes, I would make him stop. I was on my feet, rushing toward them, my hands reaching for his throat... Why was the distance uncrossable? Why was he still laughing?

Suddenly, we were in the courtyard, and I saw Suzanne being tied to the whipping post.

"The Lady Zander has chosen to take your punishment."

But this time I was free, there were no guards holding me back, and I tore the whip from the overseer's hand.

"No one will be punished," I said.

"Someone is always punished," he replied.

His mask disappeared, and Spock stood before me. He looked grief-stricken, and the open display of emotion left me momentarily dumbfounded. He turned and raised the whip.

I grabbed his arm and begged him to stop.

"I cannot," he said. "Only you can end this, Jim."

The mask reappeared, and the overseer was once again a stranger.

I heard Suzanne scream, but when I turned, she and d'Lain were gone. I ran inside and through the halls, following the sound of her cries, until I stood outside d'Lain's apartments. I threw myself against the door, but it held. I pounded on it until my hands bled, and still the horrible screaming went on. Finally I shouted, "MY PUNISHMENT!"

I was inside then, bent over the table, as I had been the first time d'Lain raped me. As he raped me again. I closed my eyes against the pain, but it was inescapable. I felt a cry rising in my throat, but, before it could burst free, I heard Suzanne begging him to stop. I opened my eyes, and she was standing before me.

"Get out of here!" I shouted at her. "Run! This is the only way!"

She ignored me and screamed at the man who was sodomizing me, "Stop it, Spock! He doesn't know!"

I clutched her hands and said, "It's not Spock. It's not!"

Suddenly I was outside myself and saw the three of us locked together.

It was Spock.

I was awakened by Uhura's voice paging me. I had slept right into alpha shift. We were dropping out of warp for final approach to Vulcan. I returned to my quarters and found them empty and devoid of all signs of what had taken place there.

When I got to the transporter, Spock and Suzanne were already there, standing on the platform. She paled when she saw me, and Spock was... Spock. He looked exactly as he always had, and yet I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.

What was it Suzanne kept screaming when we beamed up from Beta Chorea?

'I thought the rumors were true.'

I think I know what nightmare she was trapped in.

* End Personal Log *

* * *

Kirk didn't know how long he sat in the cool silence. Whatever his thoughts, they were so private that even he could not have said what they were. A knock and a soft voice gently pushed their way into his consciousness. He lifted his head and saw that the light coming through the window had crept all the way across the room.

"Captain Kirk?"

He moved quickly to the door.

"Yes, Amanda, what is it?"

"T'lyr has requested that you return to her home immediately."

"Did she say why?"

"No. But she sent a flitter. And asked only for you."


	14. Chapter 14

At the foot of the two platforms on which Spock and Suzanne lay, T'lyr stood silent under the intensity of Spock's resistance to her recommendation.

*This cannot be, T'lyr.*

*It is the only way.* Her disapproval of his lack of acceptance was apparent. *It began with him. It must end with him. Or would thee prefer to become Tz'uzan's bondmate? For that is thy only other option.*

Spock reached for the other mind in the link.

*Tz'uzan, you are silent. What are your thoughts?*

She turned her head, and Spock saw the trust in her eyes, communicating her feelings more eloquently than the words that crept across the link.

*You know my thoughts, Spock.*

She was not strong enough to resist the link and was forced to rely on him to make the decision for both of them. For all of them. He felt her presence brushing softly against his consciousness, and he nodded, knowing that even as the link slowly consumed her, her truest soul longed to return to Jim. She belonged with him, and he with her.

He retreated into the most private reaches of his mind, shielding his thoughts from the two women. He was quite certain that Jim would insist on following T'lyr's advice, no matter how high the cost to him personally. And he knew he was all but powerless against Jim's determination to sacrifice himself for the good of others. But T'lyr's prescribed course of action was based on a faulty diagnosis. Yes, it had begun with Jim, but not twelve days ago, as the healer believed.

It had begun in friendship and been forged in sacrifice. And so it must end.

*What is thy decision, Spock? Will thee bond with this woman, or would thee be free of her?*

*I agree to the breaking of the link.*

*Very well. I will explain the procedure to Kirk.*

T'lyr withdrew from the telepathic communication and left the room. Spock closed his eyes, as he sought the first plateau of meditation. But his search was interrupted by the touch of Tz'uzan's mind, and he returned to a level at which they could communicate.

*Tz'uzan?*

*You're not as hidden from me as you think. I won't go back to Jim unless I know that you will, too.*

He felt the weight of her resolution bearing down on him and realized that Jim was not the only stubborn human with whom he would have to contend.

*Will you not let me go?*

*No. Not to your death.*

*You do not know what you ask.*

*I do know. And I do ask.*

After seven-point-two seconds of non-communication, he was touched by something different, something of her that he had witnessed only rarely. The sensation felt warm and gentle and even strangely comforting.

*Spock, don't make me pull rank.*

Of course. Humor. A common emotional reaction to stress.

*How human you are.*

He felt an odd tickle. She understood that there was no condescension in his statement.

*And I would like to stay that way. But if you don't give me your word that you'll go through with this, I'll tell T'lyr that I've changed my mind. You'll be stuck with me for life.*

*I have already agreed to her proposition.*

*I don't want an agreement. I want a promise.*

*A promise?*

*It would be an appropriate ending to this, don't you think? I want your promise that, when the time comes, you'll return to Jim.*

Jim. And a promise. And this woman, whose name was fitting for the mate of a warrior. But he was not a warrior, and, by invoking the name of the man who had been the cause of their near-bond, she stripped him of his strength.

*You leave me no choice but to comply with your wishes.*

* * *

"Captain Kirk."

T'lyr gestured toward two chairs, and they sat down opposite each other. Kirk waited, bracing himself for the shock of the words he expected to hear.

"The link is stronger than I expected," she said. "If I break it, it is quite likely that Spock and Tz'uzan will die."

"I see." Kirk felt the walls closing in around him.

"Kirk. *I* cannot break the link. But *thee* may be able to."

"Me?"

"Both Spock and Tz'uzan care very deeply for thee. That is how the link was formed. It turned them to each other. If I break the link, they will be connected to no one. They must be turned back to thee."

"Is there any danger?"

"There is no danger to thyself."

"I meant danger to them."

"There is less danger than if I attempt it."

"And if no one does it?"

"Then, with or without a ceremony, they will soon be bonded to each other. I have looked into their minds, Kirk, and they do not wish that. Tz'uzan believes thee love her, and Spock believes thee are his friend. Will thee do this for them?"

"Yes, of course. But I don't know if I can. I'm not a telepath."

"I will guide thee."

"What must I do?"

"The link compelled them to claim each other. Thee must reclaim them in the same manner."

"I don't understand."

She eyed him curiously. "Spock has said that thee were present when Tz'uzan claimed him."

Kirk looked away, clenching one hand around the other as he remembered Suzanne saying, 'Come to me, my mate,' and leading Spock toward the sleeping alcove.

"Yes, I was there," he whispered.

"And Spock claimed her with the na'khere n'zai."

"What is that?"

"It is one of our most ancient rituals. With thy permission, I will give thee knowledge of it."

After a moment's hesitation, Kirk nodded. T'lyr raised her hand and pressed two fingers to the center of his forehead.

* * *

As Stennat led him to another part of the house, Kirk examined the loose garment that covered him from neck to ankles. It was soft, white, and easily the thinnest fabric he'd ever encountered. Almost as flimsy as gauze. His arms, still bright red from the ritual bath, were bare.

At the end of a winding corridor, Stennat opened a door and gestured for Kirk to enter. Kirk hesitated, thinking of what he was about to undertake. The na'khere n'zai. The strange ritual that would allow him to...*claim* Suzanne. T'lyr had assured him that she would reinforce his "human abilities" with her own strength. Yet the thought of this cold stranger participating in their lovemaking, controlling what had always been private between him and Suzanne... He shuddered inwardly.

And afterwards, he would have to submit to Spock as Suzanne had, sharing his passion as a willing partner. It was the only way to free him from the unwanted bond and reinstate their friendship. But could they ever be truly restored? His pulse quickened fearfully as he thought of the night before and his shock at the kiss that had shattered all his perceptions. Would that moment color the rest of their lives?

No. We can get past this, he thought. It's just a matter of--

A picture was forming in his mind, a hideous image of the last moment of the previous night's dream, when it hadn't been d'Lain--

*Enough.*

He pushed the memory aside and entered the shadowy room.

Spock and Suzanne lay on two side-by-side couches, the uneven light casting strange shadows across them. T'lyr stood between them and beckoned Kirk to her.

"They are awake," she said, "but all communication between them and with others is telepathic. They are aware of thy presence."

Kirk looked from one to the other. Both were clad in fragile gowns similar to his own. Suzanne's was soaked through with perspiration, a response to the overpowering Vulcan heat. The thin fabric clung to the curves of her body, allowing her nipples and the patch of hair between her legs to show through. Kirk knew that his own garment, already damp down the back, would soon be as revealing.

He turned to Spock and saw that he looked almost comfortable. The soft fabric rested lightly on his body, loosely riding the curves of his muscles.

T'lyr walked around the two couches, chanting softly. Although every test had shown him to be psi-null, Kirk felt the air crackling with the intensity of mental activity. He looked down, half-expecting to see the smooth stones of the floor bisected by a band of energy flowing between Spock and Suzanne.

T'lyr's voice rose, softening as it increased in pitch. The last note of her song faded so subtly that Kirk wasn't aware that it had ended until she spoke.

"We begin, Kirk."

Standing behind him, T'lyr gently positioned his left hand against Suzanne's temple and his right hand against Spock's. Then she pressed her fingertips to Kirk's face.

"My mind to thy mind."

The touch of her consciousness was immediate. A feather-light caress, yet strong and reassuring.

*Reach for Tz'uzan's mind.*

He felt a current run down his arm and set his fingers afire. He pictured putting his hand out and finding Suzanne easily and surely, somehow knowing that his belief in his ability to do so was crucial to success. And yes! There she was.

*She does not resist thee?*

*No.*

Skating smoothly over the surfaces of her mind, he marveled at how familiar it was to him. He closed his eyes and saw, no, *felt* a light streaming toward him. As he moved into it, he recognized the luminance as Suzanne, open to him and unreserved. Eagerly reaching to deepen the connection, he stopped in dismay as he encountered someone else, another presence in the dimension he had sought to occupy. Spock. In some places, he was indistinct and spectral, and in others, he was as fully realized as if he had always existed there.

How could Kirk hope to remove a link that was so enmeshed in her mind? And why would she want him to?

In the cold darkness of his despair, he felt Suzanne's mind reach for his and draw him inwards with an embrace stronger than any he had ever felt.

*Please, Jim. Come with me. Please.*

He followed as she led him through darkness and light and all the gradations in between, until at last, they reached a place where no one and nothing existed except himself.

He examined the vision carefully, and was astonished and humbled at how clearly and solidly he existed there. He saw his flaws and weaknesses, and realized that she was amused by some of them, and irritated by others. But they were part and parcel of what she kept in her heart. He saw strength and tenderness and the joy she found in him. And all of it was lit in purest gold.

He started to smile and felt T'lyr questioning such irreverence. He checked the impulse and promised himself that later, when this was over, he would share this with Suzanne, and they would laugh over her mind painting love with the color of command.

*Reach for Spock now.*

The jolt as Spock's mind acknowledged his presence nearly knocked Kirk over. T'lyr wrapped her arms around his waist to keep him on his feet. To his surprise, the connection wasn't broken when her hands dropped from his face. He steadied himself, refusing to give in to the shock. It was unlike any mind meld they had ever shared. It had always been Spock who initiated such interactions. But now, empowered by T'lyr, Kirk had the freedom to participate more fully, to embrace the contact. But even so, he felt the staggering strength of Spock's mind, and knew that he could not withstand its power should Spock choose to assert it.

*Breathe, Kirk. Go into the link.*

He forced himself to inhale slowly and succumb to becoming a part of the living triangle.

What were the words Spock used? My mind to your mind...

Steady once more, he realized that Spock was resisting him.

*Spock. I won't break the link if you don't want me to. I'll withdraw.*

*No, Jim. Break the link. But do nothing else.*

*What else would I do?*

Spock didn't answer, and, as Kirk reached for understanding, an impenetrable mental shield slammed down in front of his question.

*Very well, Spock. I won't pursue anything that you wish to keep from me.*

A reassurance from Suzanne flew quickly across the link, too quickly for Kirk to catch its full meaning. Spock relaxed, and Kirk felt the power hum smoothly through all three of them.

*Lift thy hands, Kirk.*

He obeyed T'lyr's command and found that the link was no longer dependent on physical contact.

*Very well. Thee are in the link. Give me thy hands.*

The healer covered his hands with her own and guided them toward Suzanne.

*Leave us, T'lyr.*

Kirk felt the healer's shock as she released his hands and turned toward Spock.

*Thy friend is human, Spock. He cannot perform the na'khere n'zai without assistance.*

*I will assist him,* Spock replied.

The two Vulcans eyed each other suspiciously. Aware that there was something more going on than a simple argument over procedure, Kirk reached out and felt Suzanne doing the same. But neither could penetrate the wall behind which Spock and T'lyr had hidden themselves.

The humans waited through what seemed to be an interminable uncertainty until at last T'lyr bowed her head and turned to them.

*Kirk. Tz'uzan. Will thee consent to being guided by Spock?*

Kirk turned to Suzanne.

*I will if you will,* she responded.

He stared at her in disbelief. *Is that a dare?*

*No. I have the easier role in this. So it's your call.*

Kirk looked at Spock and saw his friend waiting for his decision. Despite the pain and confusion that had tormented him ever since they'd left Beta Chorea, was there anyone he would trust more?

*Please go, T'lyr. We will be guided by Spock.*

* * *

Kirk watched Spock's hands cover his own and guide them to the neck of Suzanne's gown. Then, together, the two men tore the damp fabric, which parted easily and fell to either side of her. At the sight of her naked body, glistening with perspiration, Spock pulled away, and Kirk almost doubled over as the Vulcan's agony resonated across the link.

Gasping, each man instinctively reached to the other to steady himself. Kirk's hand grasped the muscles of Spock's arm, and, for a moment, he felt a familiar reassurance. He realized he had missed that feeling during the trip to Vulcan. Soon this would be behind them and--

His hand was lifted away by the gentle steel of Spock's fingers.

*Spock?* Kirk questioned the unexpected rejection.

Spock shook his head. *Do not concern yourself.*

Kirk turned to Suzanne and saw the suffering in her face. Was it her own or a reflection of Spock's?

*Jim,* Spock's mind whispered softly. *End this.*

*Spock, you're in pain--*

*I can control the pain. It is of no consequence. Look at me, and you will know what must happen next.*

Kirk turned to him, and suddenly he saw himself through Spock's eyes. He watched a surprisingly small human push down fear and nod in acceptance. He saw his own fingers tear his robe and push it from his shoulders. He watched the sheer white fabric float to the floor. He saw his penis, engorged with blood, rising powerfully. Then, just as suddenly as he'd left it, he was back in his own body, almost collapsing under the knowledge of what would be required of him.

*Do not worry, Jim,* Spock assured him. *We will do this together.*

* * *

Suzanne looked up at the two faces above her. She lay very still, concentrating on the part of her that wanted to return to Jim. She stretched her mind toward his and deliberately drew away from Spock, although it brought tears to her eyes to do so.

She saw Jim position himself above her, felt his knees move into place on either side of her shoulders. Spock stood beside the couch, his hand against the small of Jim's back, gently guiding him into place. Jim responded with a jerk as Spock's hand touched his penis. She felt Spock request permission to continue and saw their eyes meet as Jim consented.

She parted her lips and felt Jim's erection brush against them. At Spock's gentle prompting, he whispered, "As rain in the desert, I anoint you with all that I am."

She closed her eyes, but what happened next forced its way into her consciousness, demanding that she see, share, *know* all.

Spock wrapped his hand around Jim's penis and gently milked it. As Suzanne took the head between her lips, Jim was filled with the heat of Spock's strong fingers. He built quickly to a climax, propelled by the images that filled his mind. He had barely begun to ejaculate, when Spock stopped him, not by squeezing or pinching or any physical act, but with his will.

Suzanne swallowed the milky fluid, and moaned sadly.

*Turn to him, Tz'uzan. This pain will be brief, and then you will be his.*

She drew a shallow breath and silently agreed to the continuation of the na'khere n'zai.

Jim moved down her body, and again, Spock controlled his actions as he ejaculated against each of her nipples.

Jim knelt between her legs, and she pulled her knees up and held them apart. Spock grasped Jim's erection and pumped until he came against her anus. He was dripping with sweat and gasping from the sickening sensation of repeatedly stopping in mid-climax.

Suzanne let go of her knees, and her legs fell open. Spock pressed Jim's penis against her clitoris. At the first touch against that slick nub, Jim spurted, and it took all of Spock's concentration to stop him before he depleted himself.

Suzanne moaned again, but this time in pleasure. She barely felt Spock in her mind any longer, there was no one but Jim, soon she would be his...

"Suzanne."

The bright voice summoned her.

"I anoint you with all that I am."

She reached for Jim's hands as Spock guided him into her. Her voice quavered with emotion as she whispered, "Look at me, Jim. I am Suzanne, and I am yours."

She was only vaguely aware of Spock stepping away as Jim claimed her with his body.

"And I am yours," Jim said, his voice as steady and true as his unfaltering faith in those words.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and cried out joyfully as she drew him inside.

* * *

The bliss of being joined in both mind and body was almost unbearable. Their lovemaking felt fresh and new, and it connected them as they had never been before. Feeling each other's passion, they journeyed together, knowing at last what it meant to be both touching and touched, male and female, Jim and Suzanne. And before they had even begun to understand this new realm of the physical, their knowledge of each other exploded and was burned into their souls.

The words that flew from heart to heart were naked and unshielded, yet completely inadequate to communicate all that demanded to be known. Their feelings outran their abilities to express them, and it was enough--it had to be enough--to experience emotions that were beyond language, to know that each thought was shared so immediately that neither could claim ownership of it. Miraculously transported beyond the limits of being human and aware that it would end all too soon, they dove headlong into each other and eagerly explored the intimacy that had always been just beyond their reach.

And at last, there was no distinction between the passion of the body and the desire of the soul, for both were the same.

*I am yours.*

* * *

Spock turned away and leaned against the other couch, breathing deeply.

*There is no pain,* he chanted, but he had been weakened by the ritual and could not keep that thought to himself. He was shaken out of his tenuous meditation by the orgasmic force rushing across the link and crashing down on him.

The rolling joy, awesome in its totality, swirled around him and, as it tumbled over him, the roaring subsided, and he heard faint cries fading into the darkness. And finally, there were voices, speaking of him although still raw from gasping other names.

"Jim, Spock is--"

"Yes, I know."

He felt careful hands turning him.

"Spock, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

"Yes, Jim, I am..."

He struggled to his feet, blindly guided by Jim's hands. He shook his head until his vision cleared.

Jim was standing before him, so close, so unguarded, so intoxicating in his beauty. All weakness fled, and he was overwhelmed by desire and the anticipation of its fulfillment. He put his hands to Jim's face and was filled with wonder at the trust he saw there.

A trust he would not betray again. He dropped his hands and turned away.

"Spock. Look at me."

The hypnotic pull of that silken voice was irresistible. Spock moved slowly until he stood between the two humans. Kirk turned to him, and, when they were face to face, he raised two fingers between them.

"Come to me, my mate."

Spock had heard other beings speak of time standing still, but he had never before experienced the sensation. Now, balanced tenuously between his past and his future, he extended his fingers towards Kirk's.

"I do not require this of you," he replied.

Then, with swift grace, he brought his hands to the necks of both humans and squeezed. He caught Kirk as he crumpled to the ground and lifted him to the vacant couch. He carefully arranged his friend's limbs until he was satisfied that he would rest comfortably. He stepped back and studied the man who had delighted his days and haunted his nights for five years. To his surprise, he felt no need to imprint the image on his mind. He had long ago committed Jim Kirk to memory.

He bent to whisper, "Live long and prosper, Jim."

As he did so, his mouth gently brushed Kirk's ear. It was not a kiss, yet the intimacy of that lightest of touches almost shattered his resolve.

He straightened quickly and turned to Suzanne. Resting his hand on hers, he allowed himself only a moment to honor the woman who had so briefly been his mate.

"Peace and long life, Tz'uzan."

He covered them with the torn garments and left.


	15. Chapter 15

"Jim? Jim, do you hear me?"

McCoy's voice intruded into the darkness. Kirk opened his eyes and instantly regretted doing so. He put the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to block the roaring pain.

"Jim?"

Kirk drew two deep breaths, hoping the sound of his own voice wouldn't shatter his skull.

"Bones?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"T'lyr wasn't sure what to do with two humans suffering from a Vulcan neck pinch."

Kirk groaned, rolled onto his side, and saw the figure on the other couch.

"How's--?" He waved a hand in Suzanne's direction, as the pain moved down his cheekbones and prevented him from finishing his question.

"She's still out. Lie still. This will take care of the headache."

He pressed a hypospray to Kirk's arm.

"Headache hardly does it justice," Kirk muttered, pushing up onto his elbows.

"Jim, hold on. Give it a chance to work."

"How long have I been out?" He forced himself to continue the conversation as he struggled to an upright position.

"About three hours."

"Where's Spock?"

"He beamed up to the ship and sent me down here. Presumably, he's still there."

"Give me your communicator."

McCoy heaved a sigh of exasperation and obeyed the captain's command.

"Enterprise. Scott here."

Kirk winced at the sharp sound and held the communicator further away.

"Scotty, this is the captain. Let me speak to Mr. Spock."

"He beamed down to the planet's surface over two hours ago, sir."

"Where, Scotty?"

"The same coordinates you beamed down to this morning, sir."

"Can you trace him through his communicator?"

"Aye, sir. Mr. Chekov, put a trace on Mr. Spock's communicator."

Kirk waited, silently counting the waves of pain in his temples.

"Captain, Mr. Spock's communicator is in his quarters."

"Understood. Kirk out." He closed the communicator. "Where would he have gone from here? His parents' house?"

"Spock has gone to Gol."

Kirk and McCoy turned toward the low voice and saw T'lyr and her assistant standing in the doorway. Stennat approached and handed Kirk his uniform. Kirk eased off of the couch, almost losing his balance as a searing pang pierced the back of his neck.

"Jim, you have to lie down," McCoy insisted.

"I don't have time, Bones," Kirk said as he pulled on his pants. He turned to T'lyr. "Where's Gol? How do I get there?"

"It is the home of the Kolinaru, an ancient order of those who seek the purity of logic," T'lyr explained.

"I didn't break the link. He'll die."

"He seeks a new path."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked irritably.

She ignored his question and handed him a comm disk.

"This is for thee."

"Where can I view this?"

"Come with me."

"Bones, when Suzanne wakes up, take her back to the Enterprise. And keep her there," he said as he followed T'lyr out of the room, praying that the hypospray would kick in soon.

* * *

Kirk closed his eyes against the sun, as a hammer slammed into the space behind his eyes. He suspected that his activities of the past hour had nullified Bones' ministrations.

He'd questioned T'lyr, who had volunteered nothing, and it had felt like the top of his head was coming off before he learned the location of Gol and that it had to be approached on foot. After ordering Mr. Scott to scan the Shikahran desert--after all, how many people could be heading toward what sounded like hell on Vulcan?--he'd waited impatiently, drinking the bitter tea that T'lyr forced on him. Finally, Scotty located "a Vulcan," and Kirk had himself beamed to the ship and immediately back to the surface, in the vicinity of the anonymous Vulcan.

Those fast turnarounds were always disorienting, and now, as he watched the familiar figure approach, he was almost blinded. But whether it was from the sun, the headache, or something else, he didn't know.

"Spock."

"Captain." Spock stopped in front of him.

After a moment's silence, Kirk realized he was facing another Vulcan who would volunteer nothing. He held out the disk T'lyr had given him and said, "Explain this."

"It is my resignation."

"I know what it is. I want to know why."

"I stated my reasons--"

"And I don't believe them."

"Captain, obviously you have seen the file. I do not see the point of reiterating its contents."

"Spock, you have to come back. We have to break the link."

"I resist that suggestion."

"Then I'll make it an order."

"You are no longer my commanding officer."

"I haven't accepted this resignation, and I don't intend to. Spock, what's going on here? The truth."

Spock looked at him with thoughtful curiosity.

"Very well. Let there be truth between us. Walk with me."

The two men set off across the sand.

"Jim, last night, when Captain Brandt claimed me, it was unlike anything I have ever experienced. The sense of belonging, even to someone I do not love and who does not love me...it is that which Vulcans seek in the bond. It allows us to find contentment in arranged unions."

"Then why did you consent to breaking the link?"

"I will not take an unwilling mate."

"Was she unwilling, Spock? She did claim you."

"It was an act of desperation. She used her position to prevent me from destroying that which you and I share, and to preserve the bond between the two of you."

"The bond?"

"You and she *are* bonded, Jim. Did you not see that in the link? What you share has few, if any telepathic properties, but to describe it as anything other than a bond would be inaccurate. I had suspected as much, and the events of this day have confirmed it."

"But the link between you and Suzanne still exists, doesn't it?"

"Only for me. You successfully removed it from her mind."

"But why would you want to keep your part of it? If we break it, you'll be free to form a bond with someone else, to find that sense of belonging."

"Even if I were to allow you to break the link, I would not be free."

"Spock." Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache was not receding. "It's very hot out here, and I really don't want to play Twenty Questions. So please. Tell me--in simple terms--what you're talking about."

They walked in silence for several paces before Spock spoke.

"You saw it in the link, Jim. But if you must hear me say it, I will do so. For four-point-six-four years, I have lived with the inappropriate emotions that you arouse in me. I find this new emptiness, although somewhat stressful, to be preferable to what existed before."

Kirk stopped and listened to the pounding of his heart.

Spock turned and asked, "Were you not aware that I felt more for you than friendship?"

Faintly, Kirk heard a soft voice, awash in regret as it intoned, 'I thought the rumors were true.'

It had been four years since he'd first heard Suzanne say those words and hadn't even considered the possibility that her assumption was not entirely unfounded. Four years of assuming that what was untrue for him was also untrue for Spock. Four years of believing what was convenient for him to believe.

Four years that had been swept aside by a kiss that had lasted no longer than three seconds.

Since that moment, Kirk had known that they would have to confront each other, but not *now,* not when he was still reeling from everything that had happened since they'd left Beta Chorea.

He looked at Spock, the words 'How could you do this?' forming on his lips. Then he saw a flicker of regret cross the Vulcan's face, and he realized that Spock hadn't wanted this conversation, either. He had resigned in order to avoid it. It was Kirk who had forced the issue, and now he owed them both the truth, no matter how hard it would be to confess or to hear.

"Yes." Kirk managed to maintain a steady tone. "Yes, I believe I knew. But I...avoided that knowledge. I'm sorry, Spock."

"Do not apologize. I chose not to bring it to your attention. I know how highly you value our friendship, as do I. I had no wish to endanger that."

Spock began walking again, and Kirk moved quickly to catch up.

"I believed I had been almost entirely successful in mastering those emotions," Spock continued. "Except for a few extreme situations, they have not been a factor in my decisions or actions. But they were always present in me. It was not a pleasant experience. Last night, when Captain Brandt invoked the link, I no longer felt that pain. And I choose not to return to that state."

"Was it so bad?"

"At times, it was almost unbearable. And it would be worse now, after what I have learned. Through Captain Brandt, I have learned things about you both that I have no right to know. But I also know what it is to be your friend. I saw what you intended to do for my sake, and I cannot allow such a sacrifice."

"Spock, it's not a sacrifice. I'm willing--"

"I cannot accept that. I saw what was in your mind as you approached me, thinking of the act that would break the link. I saw d'Lain Kevnan, what he did to you, and what he forced you to do. I saw you try to convince yourself that, with us, it would be different. And I saw you prepare to do what was necessary, even though, for you, it would not have been different."

Kirk opened his mouth to protest and realized he could not argue against the truth of Spock's words.

"I can't deny what you saw in my mind," he said. "But you have no right to make that decision for me."

"It is the only decision possible."

"Spock, I don't want to force myself on you, but I will, if that's the only way of saving your life."

Spock raised a quizzical eyebrow, looking almost amused by Kirk's defiant offer. "I assure you that I will survive without such drastic action."

"T'lyr said that you'll die if the link isn't broken."

"Captain Brandt and I did not share a full bond, nor is she a Vulcan. Our link contained few, if any, of the spiritual elements that would have existed between myself and a Vulcan female. Now that the link has been terminated in her mind, I believe it will slowly fade from mine."

"But T'lyr said--"

"I have come to the conclusion that T'lyr based too much of her diagnosis on her experiences with my parents. It is understandable, since theirs is the only cross-species bond available for her study. I believe that my mother's willing participation in their union was a component in its initiation and endurance. Captain Brandt's response to what can only be characterized as an assault--"

"I'm sure she doesn't think of it that way."

"Regardless, she did not seek the link, and she fought it with surprising tenacity. In all likelihood, that was a factor in its successful termination. I am quite certain that what I am experiencing now, although uncomfortable, will not prove fatal."

"What are you experiencing now, Spock?"

"I believe it can best be described as an unanswered hail. My mind continues to reach for Captain Brandt, but she does not respond."

"And you prefer that to what you felt before?"

"Yes, Jim, I do."

Kirk put his hand to his face to hide the rapid action of his jaw muscles.

"Spock, running away isn't the answer."

"I am not running away. I am seeking something that I will not find in you, or Captain Brandt, or Starfleet. Humans call it `peace of mind.' I believe that I may find that in the Kolinahr."

They walked in silence for several minutes.

"How long will you be gone?" Kirk asked.

"The Kolinahr is the pursuit of pure logic, the purging of all emotions. It is a lifetime quest."

Kirk stopped short.

"A lifetime--? You're never coming back?"

"No."

"Will you... Will I see you again?"

"In many ways, the Kolinahr is similar to the cloistered religious houses of Earth. Contact with outsiders is forbidden. There are no exceptions."

Kirk felt a spark of anger, the same anger he always used when threatened. He'd thought only death could part the two of them, but now Spock was ending their relationship and calling him--

"An *outsider*? Is that how you think of me? Is that--"

Spock faced him, calmly awaiting the continuation of the heated diatribe, and Kirk stepped back, silenced by the Vulcan's unruffled demeanor. There was no patronization in Spock's patience. As always, he was willing to let Kirk do whatever he needed to do. Kirk helplessly felt his strength abandon him.

Yes, anger was his weapon, to be used against pain, sorrow, frustration--but not against Spock. He frowned, knowing he should say something, but what? What words would pierce the shield that Vulcans considered essential to survival? The barriers between them... The barriers. He suddenly realized that he too was guilty of misguided reserve. Fearing that it would make his friend uncomfortable, Kirk had never said the words that would have been spoken so easily to almost anyone else. And if he didn't say them now, it would be one more lost opportunity, one more little death, one more cheat. For the second time that day, he dredged up his courage and bared his need to one he loved.

"Spock, what I feel for you is...much more than friendship. More than I felt for Gary, or even Sam. You and I...I don't know how to express it--"

"T'hy'la," Spock whispered.

"What?"

"It is a Vulcan word," he explained hoarsely. "You have just stated its meaning. One who is more than a friend, more than a brother. T'hy'la."

"T'hy'la," Kirk repeated. "It's a good word. I think an important word."

"Yes."

Kirk took a few steps, his feet slipping unsteadily in the sand as his mind groped frantically for a solution. He had always been able to charm others into seeing things his way. And this was no different. It couldn't be. As in countless crises before, Spock had stated his recommendation, which Kirk would consider, and then...Spock would follow his lead. He was sure of it.

"More than friends...more than brothers... It sounds like a lot for two people to share." He couldn't stop the tinge of hurt that crept into his voice. "But you're telling me it's not enough."

"It is enough. Now." Spock's face softened almost imperceptibly and for a moment, Kirk thought he'd won. "But it changes nothing. You are the man you are. You can be no other. And I no longer wish you to be."

"What is, is. Is that what you're saying?" Kirk asked testily.

"Yes. I believe I have finally accepted the truth of that statement."

"Well, I haven't."

"Jim, you do not understand. I have told myself that, as a Vulcan, I was strong enough to endure what could not be changed. Now I know that I was blind to the truth. I was very close to becoming human, tormented by emotion and bereft of logic. I am no longer a Vulcan, and only the Kolinahr can restore me."

"That's not true. You're as Vulcan as the day I met you. If anything, you're more so."

"If I were truly a Vulcan," he rasped, "I would not be standing here attempting to explain this to you. A true Vulcan would accept that it is beyond your comprehension. He would not require..."

He wrenched away from Kirk and, for a moment, Kirk hesitated, uncertain of how to respond to Spock's obvious distress. Then he reached out and put his hand on Spock's shoulder.

"What, Spock? What do you require?"

Spock turned toward him, and Kirk watched in amazement as, slowly and inexorably, the barriers fell away, and he was faced with the totality of Spock's anguish.

"Your consent," Spock whispered. "Jim, let me go."

Kirk looked out across the vastness of the Vulcan desert, knowing that he could prevent Spock from disappearing into it forever simply by saying, "No." He could treat this as if it was no different than the unfortunate situations with other crew members who had developed a "crush" on their CO. Then he realized that it was his misuse of that tactic that had brought them to this agonizing confrontation.

For nearly five years, he had treated Spock--his closest friend--just as he would a lovesick ensign whom he would barely recognize in the corridor. As long as it wasn't a problem, he didn't say anything. And it wasn't a problem, not for James T. Kirk. In fact, it was an asset that he had selfishly manipulated. He had relied on Spock, pushing him past all endurance, knowing that the Vulcan would never abandon him, no matter what the cost.

Finally, the strength that had been tempered by years of making the *right* decisions, the *tough* decisions, asserted itself and sternly reminded him of the words he'd recorded only days earlier in his personal log.

*Can I let go? Because I would have to actually let go.*

The wind picked up slightly, but Kirk knew that the tears that stung his eyes had nothing to do with the sand dancing in the air. He straightened and turned to face his friend for the last time.

"Live long and prosper, Spock," he said, raising his hand in an awkward Vulcan salute.

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "You have never been able to do that."

"No. My fingers don't work that way."

"Then let us do this your way." Spock put out his hand. "Goodbye, Jim."

Kirk stared down at the the hand that was like a part of himself. He thought about the friends and lovers lost to death, the unsaid goodbyes, the years with Spock at his side and the years ahead without him. He raised his head and met Spock's eyes.

"Spock, I *do* care for you. And I...I wish there was some way..."

"Jim, you cannot stay out in this sun much longer."

Spock again offered his hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Kirk pulled the Vulcan into an embrace, closed his eyes, and whispered, "Goodbye, Spock."

He briefly felt strong arms around him and then they were gone. When he opened his eyes, he saw a tall, elegant silhouette moving toward the setting sun.

"Peace and long life, my friend," he said quietly.

He watched until Spock disappeared over the dune.


	16. Chapter 16

"Live long and prosper, Captain Brandt."

The image on the computer screen blinked out, and Brandt sat in rigid silence, remembering her trepidation when T'lyr had handed her the disk and said, "Spock requested that this be given to thee."

Now that she'd viewed it three times, she realized she was relieved that it hadn't contained the confession she had half-feared. In fact, she was more than a little annoyed at her irrational anxiety. Spock had not expressed any regret over the severing of the link, nor would he. No, *this* revelation was of a very different nature. In fact, under other conditions, she might have laughed at fate's latest little trick. But not now. Not knowing Spock as she now did.

This must have been what he had tried to tell her the night before when they'd lain together in Jim's bed, at last satiated...

Unlike the first time the link had possessed her, the return to rational thought did not prompt the impulse to flee him. He had tried to shield his thoughts, but she had seen the images of loss and regret that had accompanied his final climax. So she pressed her body against his, knowing that he yearned for this last tenderness and would not ask for it.

She thought of all that she had learned of him, how deeply he had buried his need, and the tremor that had shaken him as he offered her the protection of his body, if only for a brief time. She felt his arms close carefully around her, and smiled at his wariness of her "human fragility."

*He's holding me like a--*

A china doll? No. A lover. And despite all the pain that the link had caused and the trials that she was certain lay ahead, she could not regret this moment.

Lulled by the unexpected peace, she drifted to the soft rhythm of his fingers twining through her hair until she was half-dreaming.

"Captain Brandt."

The low rumble of his voice summoned her attention. "Hmm?"

"Captain Brandt, I--"

"Spock, please stop calling me Captain Brandt. Under the circumstances, it's...ludicrous."

"My apologies, Tz'uzan. There is something I feel I must discuss with you. In our meld on Beta Chorea 3, I saw an incident in your past that I believe is not part of your conscious memory. Specifically--"

Exhausted from the hours of copulation that had run the gamut from torrid to tender, she wanted nothing more than to wrap his voice around herself and fall asleep to its music. But some instinct told her not to hear him.

She sat up and said, "Spock, if there's something in my mind that I don't know about, there's probably a very good reason for it."

"It is illogical to resist knowledge."

"Sometimes we humans are illogical."

"So I have observed."

"Please, Spock. I've had too many surprises lately. Spare me this one."

He pushed up into a sitting position and sighed.

"Very well. Let us proceed with the preparation for tomorrow."

He put his hands to her temples and painstakingly helped her understand the nature of the link so that she could participate in its termination...

She retrieved the disk from the computer. Did Spock intend this message as a gift or a demonstration that he could be as stubborn as she? His words implied both.

'I felt that you should be aware of this coincidence.'

And now she was aware of something that her mind had long ago pushed aside as too dangerous. Did Spock understand that? Did he realize that a frightened child couldn't afford such a pleasant memory, couldn't allow herself to think about being safe and protected? Did he believe that, once she knew about the experience, she would be able to recall it? Because she couldn't.

*Oh, Spock. I know you meant well, but I just don't remember. I was too young.*

She knew that when he returned to the Enterprise, she could ask him to show her the incidents he'd described, but she would never dare meld with him again. If she was to truly understand what he'd told her, she would have to find the memory herself. And perhaps then she would share it with Jim, as Spock so obviously intended her to do.

**Perhaps* you will share it with Jim? You coward. Haven't you learned anything?*

She thought of what she and Jim had experienced only hours earlier, the sensations and visions that had accompanied the na'khere n'zai. She remembered his irrepressible joy and knew that it was due at least in part to the fact that the borders that separated them had been crossed at last. The contact had ended too soon for them to share the level of detail that Spock had seen in the meld, but there had been one moment in which they were immersed in each other and there was no distance between them.

The oneness, the belonging, and the fulfillment had felt *right* beyond anything she could have imagined, but now she was herself again, a separate being for the first time since leaving Beta Chorea.

She weighed the disk in her hand, knowing she wouldn't share her new knowledge with Jim until she understood it herself.

The sound of the warp engines cycling up pulled her to her feet. Heart pounding, she started toward the door. Then she realized there was nowhere she could go. Surely Jim would be on the bridge, and what needed to be said could not be said there.

She sank back into the chair, wondering how long it would be before he came to her, and what he would say when he did.

"Attention, all hands."

Her head snapped toward the intercom at the sound of Jim's voice, almost unrecognizable in its impersonal formality.

"This is the captain. I must regretfully inform you that Commander Spock has resigned his commission and chosen to remain on Vulcan. I'm sure all of you join me in wishing him success and happiness. Kirk out."

She watched the disk as it slipped from her trembling hands and clattered to the floor.

* * *

Kirk switched off the intercom and rested his hands on the arms of the command chair. He met no one's eyes, his shock at his words as great as that of the bridge crew. He knew they expected some sort of explanation, but he had none that he could give them. Staring at the screen with unseeing eyes, he realized he had no idea what to do next. All those years of command training and...

*Move on. Mark it, and move on.*

Drawing a slow, deliberate breath, he approached the helm.

"Mr. Sulu, I need a first officer. Are you interested?"

Sulu looked up at him, his eyes wide with bewilderment. Kirk suddenly remembered his own strange mixture of joy and regret when he'd been appointed First Officer of the Farragut, following the death of Commander Schon. At least there had been a funeral for Schon.

*Mark it, and move on.*

But how does one mark a loss such as this, as great as death and just as incomprehensible? There was no ceremony, no timeworn ritual in which to hide. Just a brief announcement and the stunned expressions of those who had not been granted a farewell.

"Well...yes, sir, of course. But--"

"Very good. Meet me in the deck seven briefing room in one hour. You have the conn."

"Yes, sir."

Sulu's puzzled tone cut through the pain that had made Kirk nearly oblivious to any loss other than his own.

*Move on, Kirk. You have a duty to this crew.*

He put his hand on the helmsman's shoulder and almost smiled.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu."

As he stepped up to the turbolift doors, Uhura stopped him with the quiet boldness that was uniquely hers.

"Captain, I don't understand. Why did he leave?"

He met her trusting eyes and cursed himself for what he was about to do.

"I don't know, Uhura," he lied.

* * *

Kirk entered the guest cabin and stopped just inside the doorway, trying to sort out the emotions that had buffeted him during the short minutes since he'd left the bridge. Brandt rose slowly and took one step toward him. He couldn't remember what he had intended to say to her. He saw her waiting uneasily, and he prayed that she would accept the simplest statement, without insisting on a fuller one.

"He isn't coming back to the Enterprise," he said.

"I heard." She crossed her arms and pulled them close to her body in an almost apprehensive gesture. Then she asked quietly, "Are you going to tell me why?"

"He's joining the Kolinahr. It's an order of Vulcan mystics. He wants to be free of emotion."

"Free of emotion." She nodded and walked away.

Watching her anxiously twist her fingers in her hair, he realized that she thought she understood why Spock wasn't coming back.

She turned and said, "Jim, I know that breaking the link--the way it had to be done--"

"He wouldn't let me break the link."

"What?" She crossed the room swiftly, terror in her eyes. "Jim, he'll die!"

"He says he won't."

"And you *believed* him?"

"Yes, I believe him. He insisted that he was in no danger."

"But if he's still linked to me... What does that mean?"

"It means that he believes this is the wisest course of action."

"Well, he's wrong. And you're wrong if you agreed to it." She pursued him intently. "Did you even try to talk him out of it? Or did you just let him go because--"

She stopped abruptly, and he met the unspoken accusation with a dispassionate prompt.

"Go on. Did I let him go because..."

Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth as she searched for words gentler than those she had bitten back.

"Because you're afraid of what he feels for you."

"No," he said after a moment's reflection. "I'm not afraid of that. I let him go because he asked me to."

Shaking her head, she began pacing the room, her frustration building as her steps quickened. "This isn't right. He has to come back."

"Suzanne, he's made his decision. I don't like it, but there's nothing I can do about it."

She twirled on him explosively. "Then to hell with both of you! If you're too damn stupid to see how essential you are to each other--"

"Damn it, Suzanne, listen to me!"

"No! If you think that there's nothing you can do about it--nothing you're *willing* to do about it--then just--just--"

With an incoherent sound of exasperation, she slammed her fists down to her sides. Mastering her temper, she pulled herself up to her full height and faced him.

"Drop me off at the nearest Federation outpost," she said as she turned on her heel and headed for the sleeping alcove.

Kirk followed her as far as the screen, where he watched her retrieve her duffle from the storage compartment and begin filling it with her belongings. After observing several trips between the bureau and the bunk, he crossed his arms and said, "What are you doing?"

"Packing."

"I can see that. But I know you, Brandt. You wouldn't be happy with just leaving me. What are you *planning*?"

She stopped pulling clothing out of the drawer long enough to say, "I'm going to Vulcan to haul his sorry ass out of wherever he is and bring him back here, where he belongs."

Kirk shook his head. "No, you're not. I forbid you to go anywhere near--"

"You *forbid* me?" she echoed him sarcastically. "I don't think so."

"I'll put you in the brig before I'll let that happen."

"Really. On what charge?"

"Let's see. Failure to report a crime--Komack's bribery attempt. Deliberate falsification of your official log--the exclusion of said bribery attempt. And abetting the perpetration of a fraudulent identity--Gregory Keyes."

With a contemptuous snort, she shut the drawer and carried her clothes to the bunk. "Command would never back you on that."

"Probably not. But it will give you time to come to your senses."

She pulled the duffle closed with a sharp tug that belied the equanimity of her words. "Jim, I'm not a child. You can't bully me into doing what you want."

"And you can't bully me--or Spock--into pretending that nothing's changed!" he shot back, finally releasing the anger he hadn't unleashed on Spock. Taking advantage of her surprise at the sudden change in tone, he grabbed her arms, pinning them to her side. "Now listen to me!"

"Let go of me," she said in a dangerously low tone.

"No. Not until I make you understand. When you and Spock--"

He stopped short and stared at her. A determined fury darkened her features, and he realized that, no matter what he said, she would not hear it over the clamor of the escalating confrontation.

He released her arms and backed away. What the hell was going on? He was about to drive her away, as surely as he had Spock.

Overtaken by despair, he sank down onto the bunk.

"Jim?"

He felt a tenuous touch on his shoulder.

"Don't," he whispered.

She sat down next to him and said quietly, "Tell me."

The words tumbled out as he stared down at the floor. "When you and Spock were linked, you were afraid to be near him because you couldn't control what would happen. And that's why he doesn't want to come back. He can't control his feelings about me." He straightened and looked at her. "You were linked to him. You must have seen that he isn't equipped to handle the emotional chaos."

"But, Jim--"

"Think about what you're asking," he pleaded. "Spock told me that Vulcans are capable of finding happiness in arranged unions. He could have asked you to stay with him. But he didn't, because it wouldn't have been right for you. I don't think it's asking too much to offer him the same consideration. For God's sake, Suzanne! I've hurt him every day for almost five years! I didn't mean to, I didn't know I was doing it, but--I can't do that to him anymore. I won't do it."

He got up, moved to the mesh screen, and gripped the cold metal. She followed and stood behind him, silent and uncertain.

At the top of a deeply drawn breath, he exhaled, "Spock was in love with me." He turned and searched her eyes. "You knew that, didn't you? You certainly must have learned it through the link."

She nodded sadly. "Yes. I've known for some time."

After a long silence, he asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It wasn't my place to say anything."

He put his hand to her cheek, finally seeing that Spock was not the only one who had chosen to accept him on his own terms.

How often had she held back, hidden herself from him, and evaded the truth *in order to protect him*? He'd thought that she had held herself apart to ensure that he saw only as much of her as she wished, to shelter the need that she couldn't afford to acknowledge. But how much of that had been a carefully measured distance that allowed her to fit into the role he'd chosen for her and left him free to believe whatever he needed to believe?

Why did he inspire this kind of sacrifice in those he loved?

"Oh, Suzanne," he sighed as he put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was small and muffled against his shirt. "I should have--"

"No no no no no," he murmured. "*I'm* sorry. For making you feel that it wasn't 'your place.'" He looked down at her puzzled expression and explained ruefully, "You and Spock are very much alike, you know that? That's the same reason he had for not telling me."

"Was he afraid of losing you, too?"

"Losing me?"

"I love you, Jim. Why would I point you in another direction?"

"Another direction? Were you worried about--? Suzanne, you and Spock aren't interchangeable. Yes, I love him, but not the way I love you. I wouldn't look to him for the things I get from you."

"You almost did," she whispered. "Last night."

"Out of desperation, not desire. And at least part of that was an attempt to keep you, if only through him." He closed his hands around hers. "No one can take your place in my heart."

She bit her lip and looked away. He put his hand under her chin and said, "Whatever you're thinking, Brat, say it."

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

"You didn't do anything that needs forgiving."

"Will you anyway?"

His mouth curved in a tender smile. "If that's what you want."

"And what do you want, Jim?" she asked, her words almost soundless in their naked vulnerability.

What did he want? She had asked him that once before, when they'd argued after Nevaris. He had wanted the impossible then, and he wanted it now. Realizing there was no one else to whom he could make such an admission, yet unwilling to see her face as he did so, he turned away as he spoke.

"I want...to stop thinking. I want to stop hurting. I want to--" He closed his eyes as the full weight of his defeat bore down on him. "I want you to make me forget everything and just..."

He stopped, knowing it was unfair to ask her to put aside her concerns and be what he needed. But she said, "Yes," and, as she led him toward the bed, he realized that her need to comfort him was as great as his to be comforted.


	17. Chapter 17

Jim turned in his sleep and drew Suzanne close. She had been awake for some time, listening to the hum of the warp engines and thinking of what the morning would bring.

Under the orders of Starfleet Command, the Enterprise would drop her off at the nearest Federation outpost, where she would proceed, not to Vulcan, but to Earth, and she would remain there until after Admiral Komack's trial. Her CO had refused to hear her protests, explaining, "The prosecuting attorneys feel that it would weaken their case if the intended murder victim died in the line of duty before they win a conviction."

So in a few short hours, she and Jim would once again say goodbye at the transporter, she would leave, and he would go on alone. Commanding a crew of over four hundred and yet frighteningly alone.

She got out of bed and pulled on her robe. Moving silently into the outer room, she sat down at the desk. She was no longer linked to Spock, yet she was tormented by thoughts of him. Thoughts of friendship, love, loyalty, and betrayal. She thought of the promise Spock had made to her when she brought Jim back from Nevaris, the promise that had been the foundation of the link. She thought of Jim commanding the Enterprise without the staunch presence of one who valued Jim's life above his own.

Restless and fearful, she went back to the mesh screen. She leaned against it as she gazed at the man whose soul now seemed splintered. She remembered their earlier lovemaking, how it had left them clinging to each other, and shaking with unshed tears. His embrace had been painfully tight, and when the silence was broken, when that heartbreaking sound finally escaped him, it was met with a choking sob of her own. And she knew that was as much of his pain as she would ever see, as much as he would ever acknowledge.

She thought of Spock, equally injured and just as stoically determined to move on.

She pushed away from the screen and paced the floor. How could Spock have thought this was any sort of solution? How could Jim have agreed to it? The two men were as necessary to each other as breathable air. Maybe they thought this emotional suicide pact was an acceptable answer but--

"I sure as hell don't," she muttered angrily.

Her decision made, she left the captain's quarters. The corridor was silent except for the determined patting of her bare feet as she made her way to the first officer's cabin. She stopped at the doorway, noting that the identification placard was still in place.

Good, she thought. Perhaps there is something else here as well. Something of him.

She entered, brought up the lights to the lowest setting, and saw that the room had been emptied of Spock's personal belongings. She walked slowly in and out of the shadows, remembering the artifacts, the Watcher, the books. Finally she stood in the very spot where the mat had lain before the firepot. She remembered kneeling on it, feeling comfortable in the heat, unsuspecting of what was to come.

The room was still quite warm. Apparently, the temperature had not been reset from Vulcan-normal. Perspiration was already forming on her skin, and she pushed her robe down from her shoulders, feeling the mockery of the gathering moisture.

*You are human. Only human.*

But she had been linked to a Vulcan, so perhaps...perhaps she had something of him still. Something she could use now, just this once, before it faded forever.

She remembered promising Spock that she would never interfere in his friendship with Jim and knew that she was about to break her word.

Well, now we'll be even, she thought coolly.

She sank to the floor and, gathering all her strength and courage, she envisioned Spock as she had known him in the past week. She remembered the stunning revelation of the passion that lived in his silence, the heat behind his cool logic, the yearning that had briefly touched her and demanded a response. Picturing his mind restlessly searching for hers, she recalled the name that he had given her, once again knew the color and shape of it and what it sounded like on his lips. And when he alone filled her thoughts, she reached out.

*You made two promises to me, Spock, and you've broken the first. I intend to hold you to the second.*

She sat very still and waited, praying for an acknowledgment of her right to place such a demand on him.

* * *

In the fortress of Gol, the newest acolyte of the Kolinahr sat in the meditation garden and raised his eyes to the night sky. T'Kuht had not yet risen, and the autumnal starscape was clearly visible. Although he knew they would not have changed, he methodically catalogued the constellations he had known since childhood. The Forge, the Lirpa, the Bondmates. All had beckoned to him at an early age and set him on a path that had twisted and turned until it brought him to this place of wind and stone.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the hot air of his home world. He no longer belonged to the stars. Their cold fire did not burn for him, and he would fly among their wondrous beauty no more. He was free of their enchantment and resolute in his decision to bind himself to the world of his birth.

The desert wind howled outside the walls, but the garden was well-sheltered, and only the mournful cry could enter. Yet he turned toward the sound and frowned. Something else had breached the garden walls, borne on the wind, and now its words echoed against the rough stone.

*Promise me...that when the time comes...you'll return to Jim...*

The voice of the wind died away, and he counted exactly one hundred heartbeats before he allowed himself to think about its message.

Obviously an illusion brought on by the stress of his recent experiences. The weaker, human part of his mind fought against the discipline of the Kolinahr and manufactured the entreaty. It was of no consequence.

*Let your promise be as sure and true--*

Kroykah! The link had been severed. This voice came from no one but himself.

Satisfied that he had correctly interpreted and dealt with his irrationality, he turned to the west and saw that T'Kuht had begun her journey across the sky. Soon she would obliterate the view of all but the brightest stars.

He inhaled deeply and began the recommended meditation for the first night of his new life.

When he looked up again, T'Kuht was nearly at the zenith of her arc. He was momentarily puzzled to see Vulcan's sister world, for his meditation had taken him to another garden, one that had never seen the light of so large a body. That garden had been lush and green, and lit by the silvery glow of stars, more stars than any other place in the galaxy. And the spectacular vista had been dominated by three that shone brighter than any of the others.

The Uneasy Dancers. New to him, and yet familiar. He could still feel the strange sensation of being pulled closer, and the consuming heat as he was drawn into their dance. And at last, he had been lost in their brilliance, captivated by the intricate steps of the two lesser stars as they endlessly circled their companion, the brightest of the three.

Refusing the timeless vision of grace and constancy, he pulled his robe close around his shoulders and listened. When he had counted two hundred heartbeats and heard no sound except the distant wail of a le matya, he stood and went into the fortress, carefully shutting the heavy door behind him. The garden was empty when T'Kuht assumed her position at the center of the Vulcan sky.

EPILOG

Suzanne scrambled up the steps to the apartment building, turned back, and whistled for the dog. As hoped, the long run had dissipated some of her frustration that Komack's trial had been postponed. *Again.*

"Come on, Luke," she called as she squinted into the bright sunshine. "You've already investigated every tree between here and the park."

The tan and white mutt responded to her commands by raising his leg one last time and ambling toward her. Snapping on his leash, she led him into the lift, saying, "You used to be much more obedient. I think Jim must be putting ideas in your head."

At the sound of Jim's name, the dog's ears perked up.

"All right," Suzanne laughed. "Let's see if he's home yet."

Entering the apartment, she saw the man in question opening a small package at the dining table.

"What's that?" she asked as she unleashed the dog and followed him into the kitchen.

"Package from my mother," Jim called after her.

Pouring dog food into Luke's dish, Suzanne rolled her eyes, anticipating the latest installment in a series of letters about Sam's boys and the children of Jim's schoolmates. She liked Winona Kirk, but Jim's promotion and their decision to live together had sparked a motherly expectation that was more than a little discomfiting.

*What passive-aggressive little bomb has she sent this time?* she wondered.

She went back to the living room and found Jim chuckling over a sheet of his mother's distinctive yellow stationery.

"What is it?" she asked as she sat down in the chair next to him.

"Dear Jim," he read aloud. "Now that you're settled--"

A significant look passed between them.

"--I thought you might like to have this picture. You and Sam were such handsome little boys. Give my love to Suzanne. Isn't her birthday coming up soon? Love, Mom."

"Well, it's not too hard to read between those lines, is it?" Suzanne plucked the letter out of Jim's hand. "Ah, yes. It's very clear. 'Dear Jim. Your children would be just as wonderful as you and Sam were. But don't wait until Suzanne's too old. Love, Mom.'" She sighed in resignation. "All right. Show me the picture that's going to make us stop using contraception."

Chuckling over her undeniably accurate interpretation of his mother's latest shot across their bow, he handed her the framed image.

"It's actually rather nice," he said. "I remember that day. I was five years old, and my father's leave was ending--Suzanne? What is it?"

For a moment, there was no response as she stared at the picture, tightly gripping the frame. Then she shook her head as if trying to clear it and walked away. He went to her and ran his hands down her arms.

"Suzanne, what's wrong?"

She raised her eyes to his and drew a shuddering breath.

"Before Spock left for Gol..."

Jim started at the sound of the name he hadn't heard in nearly three months.

"...he recorded a message for me. I didn't tell you about it because I needed to think about what he said. What it meant."

"What did he say?" Jim asked as the old pain forced its way to the surface.

She went to the computer and sat down. He pulled up a chair and joined her, setting the picture down next to the monitor.

"Computer," she said steadily. "Access Brandt personal file, Spock, Stardate 5988.4."

The screen flickered, and a familiar, solemn face appeared. Kirk folded his hands as his former first officer began speaking.

"Captain Brandt, it was not my intention to invade your privacy. However, when I melded with you on Beta Chorea 3, I found it impossible to control your neurotransmitters without investigating memories that I am certain you would not have chosen to share with me. Please be assured that the things I learned will remain confidential. After recording this message, I shall not speak of them again.

"There is one incident in your childhood that I wish to discuss with you. It was buried so deeply that I do not believe it is part of your consciousness.

"After your mother died of Colson's Fever, you cared for your brother aboard the Annika for three days before help arrived. Two Starfleet officers beamed to your vessel and took both of you back to the USS Armstrong. One of the two men spent quite a bit of time with you during the trip to Starbase 7, where you were delivered to the juvenile authorities, pending the arrival of your father. You and your brother referred to that officer as 'the Bear' due to his resemblance to a character you had seen in an animated tri-vee program.

"You became quite fond of that officer. He played checkers with you and told you about his home. He said that you would like his children. You insisted that you could 'beat up' both of them.

"I do not judge you, Captain. I am aware that human children frequently exhibit a tendency to brag. You appear to have outgrown it. For the most part.

"On the eve of the Armstrong's arrival on Starbase 7, you overheard this officer dictating a communication to his wife. He told her quite a bit about you and expressed his fondness for you, as well as his admiration for your courage. He regretted having to leave you among strangers on Starbase 7, and he was concerned about your future with your father, with whom he had spoken over subspace radio. He found Dr. Brandt uncongenial."

Suzanne snorted. "That's putting it mildly."

Jim reached over and closed his hand around hers, suddenly realizing that he wasn't the only one confronting an unhappy memory.

"Captain, the man to whom you referred as 'the Bear' was Lieutenant Commander George Kirk, the father of Captain James Kirk."

Jim felt a slow-moving current creep up his spine.

"The Armstrong's records revealed that the surname of the two children they rescued was Barrie, which was also your mother's surname. You became Suzanne Brandt soon after your father took custody of you. I believe this is the reason that Captain Kirk's mother has apparently never made the connection between you and the girl described in her husband's communication.

"I felt that you should be aware of this coincidence. I hope I am not guilty of an error in judgment.

"As a Vulcan, I do not believe in fate. However, as one whose intended mate was chosen for him at an early age, I cannot help but be aware of the parallel.

"Lieutenant Commander Kirk was most impressed with Suzanne Barrie. It is my belief that he would also admire the woman she became, and welcome her relationship with his son.

"Live long and prosper, Captain Brandt."

The screen went blank.

Suzanne turned to Jim and looked into hazel eyes that had been strangely familiar from the very first day they met. She picked up the picture and compared them to what she saw there.

A handsome man in an old-fashioned uniform held a sturdy, tow-headed boy in one arm. His other hand rested on the shoulder of a lanky older boy. In the background, the bright autumn colors of a large tree stood out vividly against a cream-colored house with a wrap-around porch. The porch where, only a few weeks earlier, she and Jim had watched the stars come out.

She scrutinized the confident, happy face of George Kirk, Sr. as Spock's words echoed in her ears and Jim's arms hugged her gently. The picture swirled before her eyes until, with a sudden brilliant clarity, she at last found the memory of warmth and safety in the smiling face of a man whose beard, she knew, was very soft.

In that strangely peaceful moment, she thought of another face, one that was all angles and planes. She remembered its stark geometry and the generous soul that was hidden under its studied reserve. She thought of Spock, alone and seeking answers where none could exist, and she silently thanked him for the gift that no other could have given her.

Jim turned her face towards his.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "You?"

"A little stunned. But I'll survive. I do miss him."

"Spock? Or your father?"

After a thoughtful moment, he said, "Both."

She nodded. "Me, too."

She rested her head against Jim's shoulder and closed her eyes. As she felt his fingers moving softly against her hair, the past fell into place, and, when she looked up at him, she saw the future beckoning.

It was surprisingly easy to say, "Jim, I'd like to tell you about what happened on the Annika. It was a few days before my seventh birthday..."


End file.
